


In The Days Still Left

by carefulben (MissUnderstood)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Camping, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:03:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 140,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissUnderstood/pseuds/carefulben
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The instructions are clear, but following them will take more strength of nerves and willpower than either General Hux or Kylo Ren could have anticipated. With Starkiller Base destroyed, they are sent on a mission that will test their loyalties and bring things to light that may have been better off kept in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@careful-ben](http://careful-ben.tumblr.com) x

The engines of the command shuttle roar vigorously as they enter the planet’s atmosphere.

Heavy raindrops connect with the durasteel walls of the ship and it starts swaying as several wind gusts bring it threateningly close to being pushed off course – an alarm goes off, ‘Severe Weather Warning’ keeps popping up on five screens, accompanied by furious flashes of red. Power cuts and sparks in some places on the control panel.

“Ren”, General Hux utters impatiently, and the noise is silenced by the press of a button and the pull of two levers.

His eyes flick to the radar, which is lighting up too irregularly to be working correctly. The ground beneath his feet is vibrating when Hux reaches out and tries to reset it for the third time.

The air in the cockpit is still thick with the silence that had spread between the two of them after leaving the _Finalizer_ for this dubious assignment four hours ago. It’s for the best, Hux had decided after the first hour had passed excruciatingly slow, to not talk about any of it. No discussing details, no making plans, no sharing of expertise, no asking questions and definitely no expecting pragmatic answers. No sort of activity that included him making an attempt at or an indication towards having a decent and productive verbal exchange with Kylo Ren. Even though the subconscious urge to make sense of his situation had persisted throughout the whole flight, he had refused to actually try and initiate a conversation until now, knowing it would include using Ren’s knowledge about Snoke to fill at least some of the gaps.

After all, he is only interested in receiving answers and has no intentions of sharing anything the Supreme Leader had said to him in private with anyone, especially not with Ren. Not that Hux could expect something like constructive input from someone who considers hand-waving, mind tricks and throwing tantrums _expertise_.

He can still feel the incredulous look Ren had given him, or at least what it must have looked like under his mask, when the massive holo of Snoke had dismissed him while ordering Hux to stay. Only once before had he caught a glimpse of Ren’s face, during one of their audiences in their old holo-chamber on Starkiller Base, and that hadn’t been anywhere near enough to memorize it clearly. Dark hair, an alarming lack of scars and deformations that Hux hadn’t expected. Young. That had been about it. He had imagined Ren pouting under that helmet, he remembers. It would have matched his ridiculously youthful appearance. Pouting, sulking, probably wondering what it could _possibly_ be that his Master would keep from him, his _most loyal apprentice_ , but share with the General.

It had filled Hux with a sense of petty self-satisfaction, to see Ren leave in confusion, yet it had also made him anxious. Something like that had never occurred before.

 _Kylo Ren has failed_ , Snoke had said, _and so have you_.

Hux’s only reply had been a miserable silence, one that he can’t help but cringe at in retrospect. He should have said something. Yes, he had failed, but he had also lost everything. His life’s work had been destroyed, reduced to ash in the span of less than a day and it had left an emptiness within him he was not sure could be filled again. Snoke had stated it so casually, like he was reminding Hux of something he’d forgotten. Like he was reminding him of a report he hadn’t finished in time, like a tired teacher would reprimand an inattentive student – doing his job because it needed to be done, not because the student’s progress or future mean anything to him.

 _While Kylo Ren is my apprentice and his fate lies with me, the path_ you _will take is uncertain at the present. Your role in this remains to be seen, General. I will give you this last chance to prove to me your worth, to show me you still possess the potential I once sensed in you. This will be the first step, a necessary one to take to reestablish the First Order and crush the Resistance, to bring an end to the abhorrently chaotic ways of the Republic. Luke Skywalker has been found, but it is not too late._

It had ignited a disgusting little spark of hope in Hux, the thought that he might not have failed the Supreme Leader completely. He wanted to firmly believe that there was still a chance to set things right, then, so that was the second he’d started clinging to that belief. And with more confidence he had told Snoke that he would accomplish any mission he would set for him and that he would not fail him again.

 _Good_ , the holo had commended, with a kindness so false it had chilled Hux’s blood. _You will accompany Kylo Ren to a place that has long been forgotten, but is crucial for us to seek out. I made sure he has a task at hand. He will know what to do, and there will be no need for you to interfere with his duties. As my apprentice, he has disappointed me greatly, and I am soon to decide whether he is still worth my attention._

And then: _When the time has come, I will leave providing a judgement on this to you._

Hux considers this moment one of the many points of no return he had faced in his lifetime. There had been plenty; Like when he had, at the age of eight, finished that little gadget he’d invented, only ever using it to pulverize Yellow-barred Heliconians and fireflies. Or like the moment he got his acceptance letter from his father’s academy. Or the moment he gave the order to extinguish millions of lives with the press of a button.

_Supreme Leader, I’m not sure I understand. My task-_

_Your task is simple. It might be seen as challenging, in a way, this is true. But likewise it is a generous chance I am bestowing upon you. Surely, you have identified it as such. I still have faith in you and your exceptional sense of perception, General Hux. You will examine Kylo Ren’s condition and his behavior. I wonder whether you, too, will see the disturbance in him that I have seen. You will know when his final task has come, and you will be able to tell the difference between failure and success. Is he to emerge triumphantly, he will be redeemed with my mercy and will return to my side. Is he to miscarry the deed, I trust you will see to him personally. You are a clever man, General. You know that I will not allow another inconvenience. If Kylo Ren provides me with another failure, you will make sure it is his last._

Pride. Pride had been the first thing he’d felt at knowing the Supreme Leader trusted him with this, still confided in him after the collapse of Starkiller. Relief had surged through him at not being executed or exiled right away, but above all he’d felt a massive satisfaction at being granted that kind of power over Kylo Ren, of all people. The idea of mighty beings at his mercy, of controlling seemingly uncontrollable forces, had always appealed to Hux in a way he could not quite explain if he had to, and now he was in charge of someone who was more mysterious, more reckless, more unpredictable than anything or anyone he had ever had the chance to encounter.

Snoke’s apprentice, on Hux’s leash. He’d relished that image momentarily. And then, realization had hit.

_Supreme Leader, what if the – the job. If it cannot be performed. You yourself made sure Kylo Ren has enjoyed formidable training. He is, due to your help, an excellent warrior, almost impossible to overcome-_

_If you still value your life, General, you will find a way._

The holo had vanished after that and had taken with it the indifferent face of Snoke, a dull wall and darkness replacing it.

Hux is torn from his thoughts when the shuttle lands unsteadily and with a jolt.

Next to him, Ren’s breaths come in short intervals, sharpened by his mask’s voice modulator and quickened with the effort of landing the shuttle without crashing it. Admittedly, anyone might have had trouble landing a ship under these conditions, but Ren is not anyone and Hux is feeling himself becoming unreasonably annoyed with him already. A little rain shouldn’t have made him lose composure so easily. _The result of being too sure of oneself_ , Hux thinks to himself when the engines slowly die out and his pulse starts normalizing. Huffing indignantly at the thought of Ren probably being _proud_ of something so trivial, he unfastens the seatbelt he had unconsciously tightened at some point and gets out of his seat to fetch his bag.

It had not been easy to decide what to take with him on a mission he basically knew nothing about. Snoke had reassured him they would not need to worry about nourishment, and that had been all. He wasn’t given any information on the planet’s weather conditions, or the planet’s surface, or the planet’s size, or its inhabitants. Hux had guessed that it would not be a task completed within a day, as they were instructed to take along a tent, so he’d packed essentials, for one. There’s not much he’s allowed to possess as a member of the First Order, anyway. The period of time they’d spend there would be ‘determined by the amount of effort they are willing to expend and the dedication they are ready to muster’, as Snoke had put it, at which Hux had needed to restrain himself from asking for a more precise answer – not planning ahead has never been part of his vocabulary and it makes him twitchy thinking about it, always has, since childhood.  

The sound of the relentless rain still fills the shuttle when he searches his large backpack for a raincoat. There had been just enough time for him to change into a pair of more sturdy shoes back on the Finalizer, which is why he is, much to his discontent, otherwise still in his uniform. The impulse to check whether he remembered to bring his blaster grips him, and suddenly it feels like one of the many field trips they would do at the Academy: Hux repacking his bag for the fourth time, going through his mental list, his stomach clenching when something was missing, the cold sweat while being berated yet again for not bringing his cadet’s armband, or his cap, or his weapon. Scott Lown with his followers in tow tossing him his items after the practice, advising him with the most derisive grin to take better care of his stuff. Hux growing paranoid, on constant watch for his belongings, his vigilance only resulting in the other boys taking his things by force.

But this is no Academy field trip, Hux is no longer a cadet, Scott Lown is dead and each of his items is in place.

_Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill._

He takes a deep breath and repeats the words for a second and a third time, his heart rate slowing as it usually does after this little ritual of his.

He puts on the grey raincoat, snaps the clasps of his bag shut and makes for the control panel to lower the disembarkation ramp, but stops abruptly when he notices Ren still sitting in his commander’s seat, not having moved an inch. Mask directed at Hux and breathing now even, he makes no sign of getting up, just _lounges_ there in silence. Hux is seething before he can help it.

“I was under the assumption that it was in your interest to get this over with as quickly as possible. You will have to leave your seat in order to accomplish that.”

Ren cocks his head, then, and Hux isn’t sure why he is so offended by the gesture.

“I need to determine the way we will take, unless you already did that, which I doubt. I have to sharpen my senses, my understanding of this planet, _in order to accomplish that_ ”, comes Ren’s distorted reply.

Hux is certain that this is the true task that was intended for him – an ordeal. A torturing test of patience. _Spend a few days with my apprentice, and if you don’t lose your mind and strangle him before he completes the mission, you win. Good luck._ He can feel his nails digging into his palms even through his leather gloves and heat rising to his face. It’s so easy for Ren to get to Hux like that, too easy. He’s thinking about aborting this mission and they haven’t even left the ship.

“How long will this -- sharpening of the senses take?”, he inquires as calmly as he can manage, composing himself before he can lash out.

“I’m finished”, Ren replies lightly and gets to his feet in one swift motion, passing a fuming Hux in order to get the remaining bag.

Counting to three internally, Hux nearly slams the button to activate the ramp. The gate opens with a hiss, allowing the noise of the rain to become even more tremendous. Ren is still watching him when they start moving, now with his hood up and lightsaber attached to his belt. Hux itches to make a snide remark, but Ren is quicker.

“You have been dying to ask questions since takeoff. I sensed an uneasiness about you, General. But you didn’t give in, with your pride in the way, I assume. I’m impressed by your obstinacy.”

Hux raises his brows.

“Don’t pretend this is nothing out of the ordinary, Ren. This is not just another assignment, even you must have realized that. Of course I have questions, there’s barely any information to start with. And if having a conversation with you weren’t such a tedious task in itself, I would have even asked them. I have learned not to expect too much of you, however. Apart from that, there is really nothing I can do except going with -- whatever this is.”

The mask shields any visible reaction from Hux’s view, but the short silence that follows is answer enough for him. This is how it’s going to be for as long as they stay on this planet, and Hux is preparing himself. He will not make this easy for Ren - who growls at him, apparently lacking any more witty retorts.

“Just follow and keep quiet.”

Hux knows better than to start another argument now. They leave the shuttle in silence, fat raindrops immediately drenching them. The air is clean and crisp, the ground soft and muddy. It smells of moist wood and faintly of moss. Hux looks around; they’ve landed at the edge of a forest which Ren is now starting to approach. It looks nothing like the forests Hux remembers from his childhood on Arkanis, nor really like any other forest he’s ever seen – the trees are _immense_ , so high that their tops are swallowed by fog and so thick that it would take at least fifteen people to embrace their trunks. His gaze roams and eventually lands on the broad, cloaked back in front of him. He already hates this, all of it. Having to rely on – no – being _dependent_ on someone like Kylo Ren in a situation like this is something Hux considers an all-time low.

They walk for a short while, neither of them speaking another word. The rain gets less intense the farther they advance into the thicket, until it’s mostly dry and the numerous layers of leaves are only occasionally penetrated by little droplets. The storm still rattles the branches, but at least the thunder has stopped when they reach a flat, mossy patch. It’s nightfall already, earlier than either of them had expected, and Ren suggests they set up their camp here for the night.

“I detect no living creatures in this area. This place is safe. I feel it.”

Hux gives him a wary look.

“Proceeding at night might harbor dangers I can’t foresee. Trust my judgement on this”, Ren snarls when Hux is about to protest.

“But we have barely walked for ten minutes--“

He is hushed by the sound of the tent unfolding and pitching up all by itself after being tossed unceremoniously onto the forest ground. It has a basic look about it; one might think it’s made of simple Polyskin, but Hux knows better. Thanks to excellent economical connections, The First Order provides the most resilient equipment, the tents being no exception – Hux even recalls giving the order to have them tested and optimized after their delivery. Flexisteel elements had been added, a layer of durafiber and a thermoweave skin, keeping out most of the cold. He’d been pleased with the changes.

However, the last thing he is willing to do now is to get into this tent and wait.

“Ren, sleeping is a waste of time when we’re clearly bursting with energy. We have only just started. I want to get this done – “

“Well, _Hux_ ”, Ren spits, his anger so tangible it sends shivers down Hux’s spine, “you’re certainly not the only one who wants to get this _done._ You may go look for some firewood, if you need to put all that _energy_ to good use.”

“Don’t be absurd. Your way of doing things has never gotten us anywhere in the past, and it won’t get us anywhere now. You clearly haven’t thought of a plan, don’t think I haven’t seen through this.”

Ren’s fists start shaking and Hux gets more uncomfortable with every second that passes. He swears he can hear him grit his teeth.

“You obviously haven’t seen through _anything_. The only option for me is success. I need to make this work, finish this task, which requires staying alive. Staying alive equals not going through this forest at night. Is that plain enough for you to understand?”

“You did get the idea that this is no ordinary mission, then. Why so tense, Ren? What’s the subject of this ominous _task_ you’re so anxious to finish?”

Hux approaches him, unimpressed. Ren straightens his back, visibly tries to will the anger away but fails.

“You will see”, he hisses, stepping into Hux’s personal space, “You will see that I will complete my training and return to the Supreme Leader victoriously. But you? I still don’t see of what use a General is, in this. I admit that I have no idea why Snoke burdened me with your presence. As a punishment, perhaps? But I will not let any of this get in my way. You are no more than a slight inconvenience on my way to redemption.”

Hux stands, rooted to the spot, eyes narrowed. He’s glad that he doesn’t have to look at Ren’s face, most likely contorted in fury. Or a pout. He doesn’t know which he’d find more embarrassing.

“You think this wounds me”, Hux states evenly, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from lifting, “You think – You think your opinion of me _means_ something to me. Keep living in that little world of yours, Ren, but don’t expect it to make things easier for you, or for us both. Keep telling yourself that you have no other choice – I can already see you changing your mind in one of your fits of temper, taking the nearest escape to get back into Snoke’s lap-- “

An ear-shattering sound then rips through the quiet of the forest and shakes the ground. Even through the trees, they can see sparks lighting up the sky in a relatively short distance. Hux jumps away from Ren in shock, a wave of dry heat colliding with his face. Ren appears alarmed as well. They glance at each other, and when realization hits them at the same time they start running into the direction they came from. Ren briskly ignites his lightsaber, bathing their surroundings in its menacing, trademark red. The air has gotten considerably colder and burns in Hux’s lungs while his feet seem to carry him on their own accord.

A wall of flames greets them as they arrive at what’s left of the command shuttle, fire spitting and crackling as though it isn’t still raining excessively. Hux watches, out of breath and half-blinded by the water pooling at his eyelashes, as the last remnants of their transport collapse with an awful scrunching noise. Pieces of debris are scattered all over the grass. He peeks over at Ren, who stands frozen to the spot, lightsaber humming. There’s nobody there – they’re on their own. The soft glow of the fire dances across Ren’s mask as Hux mentally notes yet another point of no return.


	2. Chapter 2

When Hux wakes the next morning, patches of sunlight are flitting across the tent's surface. He can’t remember the last time he woke up to the faint rustling of leaves and the smell of grass, having spent years aboard various kinds of ships, rarely ever disembarking. He's not entirely opposed to it - spending the night outside - though if he has a choice, he very much prefers his private quarters on the Finalizer. _Where no masked menace can kill me in my sleep_ , he adds as an afterthought, and almost smiles at the exaggeration of this notion. He should leave the melodrama to Kylo Ren. 

He thinks of their walk back to the tent after they watched their only chance of leaving this planet burn to ash. An unspoken sense of finality and the gravity of their situation had silently hung between them, and Hux could only guess that Ren had not expected this, either.  _Snoke did it_ , Ren had declared, _He wants me to know that there is no point in running from this._ He’d sounded bitter, Hux had thought, slightly disappointed, even. The indication that Snoke hadn’t put it past Ren to flee and betray him must have stung. Not that Hux had minded.

The temperatures had fallen below freezing point by the time they had reached their camp, and they had slipped into the tent immediately. Big enough for three people to fit, still too cramped for Hux's liking. Especially when he had to share it with someone like Ren. They had built up their bags like a wall between them, so when they both lay down, neither could see the other. For a short, ridiculous second, Hux had assumed Ren was going to leave his mask on while resting, but after a few moments he had heard a clicking sound, a soft hiss. There had been moments, after that one audience, when Hux had questioned his own memory, unsure whether it had really been a human face he had seen - the briefness of their encounter had left enough room for misinterpretation. But after Ren had taken the helmet off last night, after the electric lanterns had been turned off and the rustling, modulated breaths of the mask had been replaced by a gentle, _most definitely_ human intake of air, Hux couldn't help but feel slightly relieved.

It doesn't change the fact that Kylo Ren is unpredictable and dangerous, of course. However, it's proof that he's also vulnerable, mortal. A weapon, but in the end no more than a man - an immature one, at that - if one were to strip him of his powers. Hux wonders what kind of person he’d be if the only thing he'd have left was his rage.

Only then does Hux notice that the tent is utterly quiet, and that Ren is not next to him. He has the brief impulse to call out for him, slinking panic rising in his chest until he realizes that both their bags are still pressed to his left side and that Ren is probably just out for a walk - or whatever it is he normally does after getting up. It’s not like Hux knows anything about his post-awakening habits, or about Ren in general. He might not be sleeping at all. Hux would not be surprised, though the thought bothers him. Missing out on something Ren does or doesn't do and failing in his duty to constantly observe him is not an option, the Supreme Leader is counting on him.

So he gets up, positive that at least this day can't possibly turn out more nerve-wracking than the last one, and changes into a sage green uniform he hasn't worn in a very long time. He'd first worn it as an officer when he'd been in training and had become so accustomed to it that he had refused to give it away after he had climbed up in rank. Strictly speaking, getting new uniforms while keeping the old ones was against the rules, but he's the son of Brendol Hux and sometimes that had been excuse enough. This uniform has always been his favourite, being very comfortable and improving his agility. Also, it had been the first uniform he'd worn after he'd burned his cadet's robes. _And the diary_ , a voice in his head offers, and Hux's chest tightens abruptly. _He deserved it_ , another adds.

 _Not now_. 

_Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill._

Hux is sweating by the time he's fully dressed - for one because the tent is slowly heating up from the seemingly very intense sunlight, but also because these exhausting thoughts keep resurfacing for reasons he hasn't quite figured out. In fact, he'd gotten rid of those memories a long time ago, or so he thought. He didn't expect they would – _could_ – still irritate him to the point of feeling physically sick. On the other hand, it must be on his mind all the time, if only subconsciously. His little calming technique makes sure of that, a constant reminder of what happened.

However, he’s always managed to keep the sentiments at bay and the toxic memories repressed, somehow. Now, he sees them as clearly as though all of it took place an hour ago, and desperately tries to shove them back where they came from. He blames it on his agitated mind, stressed out by this whole situation, most likely overloaded. Hux’s former life, the Finalizer, Snoke, the Resistance, all of it seems too far away all of a sudden, insignificant. He can’t trust anyone now but himself and the Supreme Leader, but since he has no idea how to contact him, he is basically on his own and has to keep his thoughts under control. _This task requires mental stability_ , Hux keeps reminding himself, _because_ _your key to survival is essentially a mind-reader_. Staying sane will take a lot of effort, as Hux is sure that Ren’s presence will be more counterproductive than anything when it comes to maintaining mental health.

Hux huffs angrily at the thought and leaves the tent.

First, he gives in to the feeling of being engulfed by humid, yet soothing warmth, then he takes a look around. The surroundings seem a lot friendlier and less intimidating in this light and with the fog gone, Hux can make out the tree’s tops. Filing them away as the tallest ones he’s ever seen, he listens intently for any sound that could suggest this place is inhabited. When he hears nothing except for the distant chirping of birds, he lets his eyes roam in search for Ren.

He finds him not too far behind the tent, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed. His black robes in a pile next to him, he sits there with his back straight, unmoving, and while he’s still wearing his absurd helmet, a black undershirt and a simple pair of black pants and boots is all that is left of his pseudo-imposing outfit. Hux takes a few steps in his direction, dead leaves and little sticks crunching beneath his feet, making a clandestine approach impossible. Ren is probably _sensing_ his presence anyway, so Hux doesn’t bother tiptoeing. The closer he gets, the less he can fight acknowledging that the man’s physique is considerably— well, impressive isn’t the right word for it, but Hux can’t seem to come up with a better one. It was to be expected, judging from the time he apparently spent training and his dynamic combat style, but still it fuels Hux’s annoyance with him – the possibility that maybe _at least_ Ren was grossly disfigured underneath his costume seems more far-fetched with every step he takes. Just wishful thinking, after all.

Hux deliberately clears his throat when Ren shows no sign of acknowledging him, even as he comes to a stop right behind him. He waits a few seconds, staring holes into Ren’s infuriatingly muscular back. Already growing impatient, he clears his throat a second time.

“Ren.”

Nothing. They have no time to lose, and Hux won’t be ignored like that, so he makes the inconsiderate decision to lean forward and harshly tap the shoulder in front of him.

With a sharp intake of air, Ren startles and turns around so abruptly that Hux takes a quick step back, worrying for some reason that Ren might not recognize him in time and jump at his throat. Instead, they stare at each other for a few moments, Ren still panting in shock, and Hux is appalled by himself. He wonders what has gotten into him - to just go ahead and _touch_ Kylo Ren. It seems like the most lunatic idea he’s ever come up with now that he did it, and regret is already settling in.

“Get a grip, Ren, it’s just me—“

“Who do you think you are to interrupt my meditation? Are you out of your mind?”

“How am I supposed to know that sitting on the ground while barely breathing is a ritual of yours? We need to decamp, we’re wasting time.”

“You don’t understand any of this”, Ren breathes, swiftly getting to his feet, “do you?”

The sight of him leaves Hux baffled, for a second. Some black curls are carelessly peeking out of his helmet, and even without his robes he takes in more room than should be allowed. Like Hux, he seems to have disposed of his gloves - his bare hands are curled into fists, infecting the rest of his body with their tenseness. His stance resembles the one of a beast preparing for the kill. Moles are scattered across his arms and back, the movement of his chest heaving now visible with the many layers of clothing gone.

To put it another way: Ren embodies the most unnerving mixture of attributes Hux has ever witnessed. He tries to think of a retort, but Ren interprets his short silence as an invitation to continue.

“Without the meditation, I won’t find the way. In this state, I’m being shown my path, and it is close to _delirious_ to just rip me out of it. So, for your sake, stay away if you see me meditating and continue being a bother elsewhere.”

Gradually it dawns on Hux that Ren must have held back during their time spent on the Finalizer. There had been snarky comments here and there, or subtle orders directed at Hux where there shouldn’t have been any, occasionally Ren might have even cut Hux short and created embarrassing situations. But never like this. He’s leisurely throwing insults around like he’s talking to a subordinate, like he has forgotten exactly whom he is facing so disrespectfully. He might have just stopped caring since they’re technically off duty, and their involuntary working alliance had presumably been the only factor that had kept him from attacking Hux head-on. The anger management issues are nothing new either, but still something about Ren is changed. There’s something about him that Hux hasn’t experienced when interacting with him before, something he suddenly recognizes despite the mask still covering Ren’s expression.

“Ren, are you _nervous?”_

Quite frankly, Hux hadn’t meant to state it so bluntly. Had he thought it through before voicing it, he might have even decided not to combine his presumption with a derisive sneer. As it is, his nose is almost touching the cold metal of the mask when Ren lunges out and violently grabs Hux’s collar.

“If you can’t wrap your mind around my methods”, Ren hisses, the voice modulator sizzling, “then feel free to spend your days in the tent, making your fancy battle plans and moving around some toy soldiers on a game board. Not interfering with the _real_ work is the least you can do, so stay. _Away_.”

Every part of Hux orders him to stand his ground and keep an indifferent attitude, however as it becomes harder and harder to breathe and mortification slowly causes his face to heat up, it’s his turn to get angry.

“Unhand me. _At once_.”

His hand reaches for his pocket knife, embarrassingly unsteady, but it freezes mid-air. Ren huffs a mirthless laugh.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The knife flies easily out of Hux's pocket and into Ren’s free hand. Hux is fighting everything at once now - the urge to gasp for air, his eyes starting to mirror the panic he can’t help but feel, the acute humiliation, letting the implication of what Ren is saying get to him, thoughts about Snoke’s orders. His pulse is thrumming in his ears, his hand is prickling from the effort of trying to wrangle it free from Ren’s Force-grip. Still, he manages to spit a reply.

“If you want me to leave - let go - immediately.”

And Ren lets go. Hux stumbles backwards, takes a deep breath and adjusts his collar. Shoots Ren a hate-filled look.

“This is not going to work”, he says breathlessly, struggling to regain composure and constraining himself to appear unaffected, however difficult. He means it - all of this has been doomed to fail from the start, but what are his options? Where can he go? Nowhere. His place is with Ren. Even unspoken and merely put together in his head, these words make Hux sick to his stomach.

Frustration takes over, seeps through him like poison, and before he can think of a more sophisticated way to express his indignation he turns around and stomps off. _Pathetic_ , he curses in his head, _This was absolutely pathetic_. He tries not to think of what his father would say when he enters the tent, angrily takes a few gulps from his water bottle and prepares some instant-bread, unable to recall when he’d last eaten. Anxiously remembering that he doesn’t know what time it is, he tries to activate the data-pad he brought and finds that it’s not responding.

Forcing himself to calm down, he consumes the stale-tasting bread in three bites and hurries outside again to brush his teeth as soon as he’s finished. The water feels pleasantly cool when Hux splashes some of it on his face, soothing his burning eyes. He already misses his refresher, his bed, his _routine_. This whole ‘living in the moment’, as in, operating without either proper sense of time or orientation, is already beginning to give him a very hard time. And on top of everything: his assignment. The assignment he had successfully shoved to the back of his mind until a few moments ago, when Ren reminded him with an invisible grip that translating it into action would be, in fact, a suicide commando. On the one hand, Hux will have to use every second he has to concoct a plan, a tactic, to get it done should the need arise and Ren fail his final task. On the other hand, he can’t mull over it too often, because Ren might read his mind or sense his sinister intentions. He might have done so already.

Hux cracks his knuckles to stop his hands from shaking and tries to focus. He tells himself he can do it, reminds himself that their mission has only just begun, that he has mastered more difficult, more complex, more mentally demanding tasks. Knight of Ren or not; it won’t matter. The people Hux had to put down before were more often than not considered stronger and more influential than him, right until he proved them wrong and took their position. It’s a necessity - stopping at nothing. Without it, you’re unlikely to achieve your goals, or be a general at 34.

More serenely now, he starts gathering their belongings - which turns out to be dealt with quickly since Ren doesn’t seem to have unpacked anything from his bag - and empties the tent. When he’s done, he gives the striking-loop a curt tug, and the tent slumps down before rolling itself up to its original form. It has gotten rather hot in the forest, the absence of wind only contributing to Hux’s discomfort.

Just as Hux is about to check for imperfections in his packing, he becomes aware of Ren approaching him. _Brilliant_ , is his first thought, _Don’t relent_ is his second.

However, there’s nothing menacing about the way Ren is moving, nor about his posture. He’s almost strolling, and his mechanical voice is even when he starts speaking.

“There is a river, not far from here. Many of its kind seem to run through this place, but we will seek out the one from my vision and follow it. What comes after is still concealed, it hasn’t been shown to me since I was interrupted, but-”

“I realize it was an unwise move, alright? Nevertheless, you should have informed me. Let us just leave.”

To his surprise, Ren says nothing in return and instead makes to grab his bag.

The journey after that is uneventful, to say the least. The landscape never changes, there’s not even a hint of a conversation and the heat is getting more stifling with each minute that passes. Their march takes significantly longer than the last time, as far as Hux can guess they walk for at least three hours without stopping to take a break. Enough time to ponder over what may lie ahead. What could Ren’s final task be? Surely, it can’t be a fight, because a failure would mean Ren’s death - accordingly, there wouldn’t be any need for Hux to get rid of him. There is something he needs to find, and there will be some sort of test, that much is already clear. A test of alliance, of affiliation, to Snoke. Maybe it will weaken Ren to the point where finishing him off won’t be much of a challenge, or maybe Hux is yet to discover Ren’s crucial blind spot that will help him do it in no time.

Something about it still doesn’t add up to Hux, however. Why does he have to come along as the examinator? Doesn’t Snoke share some kind of transcendental Force-connection with Ren? Won’t he feel Ren failing or succeeding first-hand? And, most importantly, why did he send Hux, as someone not only unacquainted with but also more than skeptical towards everything Force-related, when it would take Ren less than a hand movement to find out about their conspiracy against him? Hux had seen and heard Ren do it dozens of times, prisoner after prisoner, and each time he would get the results they needed. Sometimes it would take minutes, sometimes hours, but each time Ren would leave the interrogation room and would smugly deliver valuable information. Except for that one time, with that girl, Hux remembers too well.

Pictures of the day he found Ren in the snow come to his mind, bleeding, unconscious, right arm at a bizarre angle, a deep scar blemishing his face. An image that had given Hux second-hand embarrassment. Later he had learned that the girl had done it, that it had been her who had wrecked Supreme Leader Snoke’s apprentice and had apparently gotten away without so much as a scratch. Hux had been genuinely impressed; Ren’s recovery had taken almost two weeks.

And now Hux is feverishly wondering how she did it. Perhaps she really is an exceptional fighter, but that can’t have been her sole key to victory. Right before Hux had seen Ren’s face for the first time, he had heard him talk to Snoke about her, undeniably intrigued with her powers, but Hux doubts she used her charms to induce his downfall. Ren might have been injured before their confrontation, or he might not have been concentrating, let himself be tricked into surrender-

The desire to just _ask_ Ren about it is growing immeasurably, but dies quickly when Hux weighs the possible outcomes. Ren will either tell him the story or choke him like he did this morning, and Hux doesn’t have to think twice about which of these options is likelier to happen.

Regardless of what exactly took place that day, Ren had been put in his place by someone he had obviously underestimated and it had pleased Hux immensely. It means it has happened once, so it can happen again.

As long as he keeps cool and collected, Hux persuades himself, he can find a way out of this, a way back to his old life. With or without Ren.

By the time the river comes into sight, they’re both out of breath and drenched in sweat. Hux’s uniform clings tightly to his skin, his feet feel like they’re no longer part of his body and the ground swims before his eyes, but he’s far from admitting any vulnerabilities. Ren has not once taken his mask off during their walk, hasn’t drunk a single drop of water, so Hux can get over a little dizziness. Even here, isolated and down for the count, he cannot help but make something as essential as hydration a competition, Ren’s mere presence provoking him to do so.

They stop then, and Hux’s stomach drops. At first glance, the river is dry. For a moment, Hux is paralyzed with dread. He didn’t anticipate this. He will, sooner or later, need to refill his water bottle, and he will also need to wash, he won’t endure this without it, no, he won’t _survive_ this without at least _some_ water. Snoke said they wouldn’t need to worry - 

Alarmed, Hux carelessly drops his bag and hurries over to the riverbank after it falls to the ground with a thud. He bends over and glances down, expecting friable soil - and instead finds his own reflection staring back at him.

Not believing his eyes, he blinks a few times and peers more closely.

A shoal of fish floats past beneath him - no, swims, Hux corrects, still perplexed. He turns around and checks for Ren’s reaction, only to find him sitting on a rock nearby, obviously unimpressed. Hux feels childish for even considering to ask, but his curiosity and his fascination are getting the better of him.

“What’s wrong with the water?”

Ren regards him silently, then picks up a thick branch next to his feet.

“There’s nothing wrong with it”, he says, pulling out Hux’s pocket knife, positioning it at the broader end of the piece of wood.

“It’s almost completely translucent.”

“It’s pura-water”, Ren explains somewhat impatiently, as though Hux has been pestering him with questions for hours. He seems to realize that, and continues more calmly, to Hux’s astonishment.

“It is said to vitalize when consumed and heal when applied to wounds. A belief once spread amongst Jedi, so I guess it only worked for them. They thought it sacred. The water was already a myth when I learned about it, rumoured to have vanished, dried out for good. Many have searched for it, to no avail, of course - now there’s only one Jedi left, and I imagine he would be beside himself with joy if he knew about this river.”

Hux ponders that for a moment. Ren doesn’t hide his disgust when he speaks, and Hux actually believes him. One of the very few things he knows about Ren is that he has _both light and dark in him,_ as he had overheard Snoke put it once when he was very likely not supposed to. Even though Hux can’t make much of that information, it does tempt him to postulate theories about Ren’s origins. Light side of the Force, dark side of the Force, he’s familiar with these terms, as nonsensical it may seem to him. Ren was introduced to the First Order as the _Jedi Killer_. Now, Ren is supplying Hux with Jedi knowledge. There is every indication that he might have been a Jedi, who somehow turned into - whatever Kylo Ren is, now. Betrayed his old Master, and pledged himself to Snoke.

However, the last Jedi to train a generation of Padawan was Luke Skywalker, so -

Ren was probably -

Though it startlingly makes much sense, Hux decides not to waste more thoughts on it. He couldn’t care less about where Ren came from, or why he became what he is, which is why he forces himself to stop questioning it. So rather than demanding to receive intelligence about how Ren knows anything about that water, he reverts to his original inquiry.

“Is it safe for me to go in there?”

Ren looks up from his stick, stilling his cutting movements. It’s an oddly disturbing sight, watching Ren do something as mundane as carving. He should be - well, Hux doesn’t know what he should be doing instead, but definitely not acting so _comfortable_ when Hux clearly isn’t. They critically examine each other for a moment, then Ren simply turns around on his rock, facing away from the river, and resumes his work.

“Do whatever you have to.”

And with that, Hux sheds his uniform without second thought. He has already come to terms with the fact that this awful situation will call for drastic measures on more than one occasion, so he might as well start getting used to it now. Commanding Ren to leave will earn him nothing but mockery, walking until he’s out of Ren’s field of view will most likely result in him collapsing from dehydration or him suffering a heat stroke. His only option is to make the best of it, do what benefits his condition, therefore increasing his productivity. He can’t concentrate on his task as long as he’s sweat-soaked and on the brink of dying of thirst. And, after all, what’s so wrong with providing Kylo Ren a chance to possibly see him in only his underpants?

 _Absolutely everything,_ a voice in his head concludes bitterly, and Hux struggles to ignore the fact that he’s about to lose his dignity and make himself vulnerable in one of the worst possible ways.

After he’s folded his clothes and stacked them to a neat pile, he cautiously lowers himself into the stream, sneering when his feet touch the muddy ground. The water reaches up to his waist and is satisfyingly cool, filling him with new energy immediately - not the Force-energy he presumes, but still he feels vitalized in a very pleasant way. He splashes some onto his face and drinks greedily, the sensation of renewed vim only intensifying. The liquid feels and tastes no different from ordinary water; Hux wouldn’t mind if it did. Standing in the midst of a river he can barely see is unlike anything Hux has ever done, and he can’t say that he dislikes it. The fish brushing his legs every now and then are disturbing, but apart from that Hux is sure he could spend the rest of the day just standing there, thinking about where the river would lead them.

If it weren’t for that masked manchild causing him an inexplicable internal pressure to be quick and discreet with everything he does, Hux would doubtlessly do so, but as it is, he steps out of the water after only ten minutes of refreshment.

Ren still has his back turned on Hux when he makes for his bag to change into dry clothes. Halfway there, he notices the absence of one of his boots - he must have left them at the riverbank, in his haste - and walks back, the awareness of his state of undress quickening his pace.

He reaches down and startles slightly as he hears a sudden and sharp intake of breath from behind him. Too fixed on his task to get back to his rucksack, he doesn’t pay it further attention at first, relieved when he finally puts on a pair of fresh trousers.

It’s then that he dares taking a look at Ren again, who’s now crouching and looking down at his hands, one of them still clutching the stick, and the other -

Hux’s mood improves significantly when he realizes that Ren has cut himself. It seems so unlike him - clumsiness isn’t a feature Hux would have ever associated with Kylo Ren, yet the thick, deep red droplets falling down his left hand prove that apparently, he was wrong. Hux itches to exploit this. He suddenly doesn’t care that he’s still topless, too caught up in this sense of gratification that reminds him of the times he was allowed to witness Ren being reprimanded by Snoke.

“What are your senses telling you, Ren? Are we staying here for the night?”, Hux calls out louder and snarkier than actually necessary, forcing a reaction from Ren.

And he gets more than he hoped for. Ren straightens his back, looks over at Hux most likely by reflex, and regards him fleetingly. At seeing him, he averts his head so quickly Hux thinks his neck might snap from the movement.

 _“No”,_ Ren replies heatedly, “we are not. The days here are short, and the temperatures change rapidly. Nightfall is in approximately two hours. We will follow the river downstream as long as the weather will let us. So. Get your bag.”

Hux raises his eyebrows, but does as he’s told. He can’t suppress the smirk that spreads across his face.

“You should apply a bandage to that”, he says casually as he pulls an undershirt over his head and tries his best to brush back his damp hair, “I won’t have you bleeding all over my equipment.”

Ren bumps angrily into Hux’s shoulder when he storms past him to lead the way, and Hux can’t imagine a more satisfying way this could have gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Whatever Hux had expected Ren to do with his little self-made spear - it wasn’t that.

Shiveringly, he watches from a short distance as Ren wades through the water, every once in a while impaling a fish with rapid precision.

It does make Hux feel useless, to some extent. All he can contribute to their supper are various kinds of instant-meals, none of which are substantial or overly enjoyable. At least he succeeded in finding efficient firewood and even managed to ignite enough sparks to light it.

Ren had watched him intently, probably wondering where Hux had learned to do that, but just like Hux at seeing Ren carve, he had known better than to ask.

Talking about their lives before Snoke or the First Order is dangerous territory, and Hux is glad that they both seem to be equally aware of this. An unspoken rule, so to say.

Like Ren had predicted, it had gotten dark around them after they had put up the tent, and the bitter cold had promptly started seeping through Hux’s boots.

Wrapped in two jackets, Hux now sits on a stump near the fire and watches sparks fly as he pokes around in it with a branch he found nearby. Even though he despises fish, he’s looking forward to having his stomach filled, annoyed by the hunger-induced cramps he’s had for the past hour. The air around him fogs when he exhales slowly, and he wonders how Ren can function without any additional clothing. Hux stares at the back of his black helmet, internally ridiculing him for still wearing it. He cannot possibly see this through to the finish, he _has_ to take it off at some point, and if he doesn’t, Hux figures he will make him. It has absolutely nothing to do with Hux’s insufferable curiosity, it’s _common sense._  He’s a human being, he’ll need to eat. Hux has not once seen him do so.

He startles slightly when Ren slumps down to the ground across from him, trousers still dripping wet, gloved hands already busy with placing the spear with the skewered fish on top of the stones Hux put on each side of the hearth. His brow creases when he takes a closer look at the fish, unable to identify their species.

“You already gutted them”, Hux notes unbelievingly, suddenly very anxious that Ren might ask for something in return or not share them with him at all.

“Something told me you wouldn’t do that”, Ren says plainly, turning the spit.

For the first time, Hux doesn’t have a witty retort. If he boasts about how _of course_ he would have done it or if he taunts Ren for considering this a difficult task, he’ll end up having to do it next time, and he’s far from putting his hands anywhere near the insides of a fish. If he insults Ren, he might not get his share of food and will have to revert to his own supplies.

Consequently, his solution is to glumly watch Ren roast the fish with a most likely bright red face.  

Hux has almost completely blocked out the cold by the time their meal is done, and he only half-notices Ren getting to his feet.

“Leave half of them. I’m eating mine later.”

With that, he stalks off, but Hux is beyond questioning it. His mind is focusing almost exclusively on relieving him of those hunger pains, and it doesn’t take him very long to finish up his part.  

As soon as he feels satiated, exhaustion sets in. Hux’s eyelids feel too heavy to keep them open for a second longer and his mind struggles against the - presumably very reasonable - idea of waiting for Ren’s return. _What do you care about his quirks_ _,_ Hux thinks as his tired feet drag his more or less cooperative body to the tent, _There will be another day to solve the great mystery that is Kylo Ren._

He drifts off into an uneasy sleep as soon as he’s wrapped tightly in his sleeping bag.

When he wakes again, he doesn’t know for how long he’s slept.

It doesn’t feel like he slept at all really. Hux feels anything but well rested. It’s still dark, and his eyes have difficulties adjusting at first. He’s shrouded in an eerie quiet, still on his own in the tent, and can’t yet figure out what caused him to wake up.

Unsteadily, he gets up on his knees and tugs open the zipper of the tent’s entrance to glimpse outside.

Harsh, chilly night air immediately hits his face and his eyes start watering - the forest is bathed in a cold, blue light, illuminated by what might be a moon, or more than one. The fire is burnt down, steam rising languidly from its remnants. The leftover fish are gone.

Hux squints, looks over to the river, and then he sees him.

Dark, wet hair is covering his face as he seems to be staring down at his hands, his bare upper body reflecting the bluish light, making it almost appear like he’s the one radiating it. His breaths come in rigid, erratic huffs, and he’s shaking in a just barely visible way.

And when Hux reckons things can’t possibly get worse from there, Ren lifts his head and meets his gaze.

He’s not shaking from the cold, Hux realizes at observing his face. He’s upset. Not exactly bawling his eyes out, but looking panicked and confused in a way that makes Hux wish he had not gotten up at all.

Black curls frame wild, brown eyes, some of them astray and sticking damply to his forehead, long nose, lips that doom him to look like he’s constantly pouting. This Ren looks even younger than the one Hux remembers seeing at the audience, younger than the one he saw with his split face turned away from him in the snow. Hux would have never guessed that he would live to see all of Ren’s face, and now he has more time than he’d like to regard it because Ren is showing no sign of averting his eyes any time soon. It’s now irreversibly etched into Hux’s memory, this image of Ren’s odd face in the blue gleam, and he knows he won’t be able to forget it now even if he tried. As dark as the forest may seem, Hux sees Ren as if it’s in the light of day.

He doesn’t know how long the eye contact lasts, just that it lasts too long to not be unsettling.

Unsettling is really the only word that comes to Hux’s mind, to sum up this whole encounter. He wants to say something, do something, but finds that he can’t help but keep examining the mess that is Ren’s face. It’s the type of unconventional that makes Hux nervous, as anything out of the ordinary does, but at the same time he can’t look away. The pouty mouth is no surprise at all, is fitting, really, the moles are, too. His skin is almost as pale as Hux’s, looks soft, unblemished -

Unblemished.

Hux’s heart skips a beat. Ren’s face is supposed to be disfigured. Torn in two. There should be a deep scar ripping it in half, yet there is none.

This means something, Hux knows it, but his mind is unable to make sense of anything with Ren still staring wistfully at him, trembling hands held out in front of him. The silence gets more overwhelming with each second that passes and Hux feels his face heating up despite the bitter cold.

The tension eventually becomes unbearable, and Hux hastily retreats into the tent. He should not have watched this. Ren will make him pay, Hux is sure, Ren will not let him get away with having seen him so vulnerable.

Hux’s mind is reeling, coming up with nearly every possible way Ren could make him suffer, until he falls asleep about an hour later. He would think it through again in the morning, and he would analyze the situation thoroughly and interpret it correctly.

He dreams of Ren’s face, blue and close to his own, sorrowful eyes directed at him as he feels an invisible grip tighten around his throat.

 

***

 

Hux wakes to dry heat and a headache. There aren’t as many trees near the river so the sun must have been heating up the tent since dawn. It’s straining to move, get up, get ready for another trip, but Hux does it anyway in no time. Ren is nowhere to be found yet again, though Hux doesn’t bother looking for him this time. Their encounter from last night seems far away, surreal already when he slips into his boots and starts his newly adopted morning routine. He could brush it off as something that happened and won’t happen again, as just another weird thing Ren did to annoy him and test his patience. He could forget about it and move on, leave Ren to his unfathomable internal struggles and keep in mind to report to the Supreme Leader as soon as he has the chance.

However, as they resume their journey some time later, Hux realizes after the tenth stolen glance at the side of Ren’s helmet and the ensuing checks on his gloved hands that he won’t be able to let it go so easily. They refuse to talk to each other, and the tension from the night before has not lessened in the slightest.

Hux has his theory. But first, he’ll have to see Ren’s bare hands, and have another look at Ren’s face too, just to be sure he hasn’t imagined things. If Hux finds no scars, he’ll consider his theory confirmed. It’s the only truly logical explanation he can come up with - Ren’s wounds were healed by the pura-water, because he used to be a Jedi. Or still is, partially, Hux wouldn’t know. Maybe he went into the river to go for a swim, not expecting the water to have any effect on him, and then he watched his scars disappear, and was shocked. Upset. Embarrassed? Though, as far as Hux knows, Ren uniting both light and dark in him is the trait Snoke values most, so why would he be irritated by seeing actual proof for his greatness? Hux grits his teeth. Poor, powerful Ren, so _conflicted_ all the time.

At least Hux doesn’t let it get to him. Or, doesn’t show that it gets to him anyway.

Ren told him nothing about their destination this time. They’re still following the river downstream, but there is nothing but dead leaves and more trees in sight. Hux genuinely wonders how long it will take them to get where they’re meant to go. Days? Weeks? He knows he could not stand continuing this for longer than a few weeks.

He is doing his job, though - last night’s events are very worth mentioning to Snoke, in terms of Ren’s loyalty. His past should mean nothing to him. He should be proud of what he represents as Snoke’s apprentice, not tremblingly stare at his hands on the verge of tears with those odd, wide eyes. It’s only reasonable to wear the mask, from Ren’s perspective - without it, he can be read so easily, every emotion displayed plainly on his features. A cold facade that gives nothing away is something that Hux acquired very early on and is, secretly, something he is very proud of. It has always proved to be of huge advantage, has only ever made him less assailable in arguments or fights. It’s also very useful in combat. Only very rarely does he let it slip. In private, if at all.

The air is stickier than it was the days before and they actually take a break from walking after a reasonable amount of time has passed. Hux decides to also take a break from piecing together the most absurd speculations about Ren - it doesn’t contribute to an improvement of his mental condition in any way and is essentially an enormous waste of energy. He knows he needs to calm his mind and his senses, it’s the only way to make it out of this disaster as a sane person.

Still, Hux is nervous.

He itches to see Ren’s face, against his better judgement. It’s irrelevant, it wouldn’t have any real impact on Hux, it wouldn’t even have any real impact on their mission.

And yet.

“Why exactly do you feel the need to hide behind a mask?”, Hux blurts out before he can help it, taken aback by his own sudden aggressiveness.

Ren, who sits cross-legged on the soft ground, raises his head at the question. The effect is immediate -  his back straightens, sensing a conflict. Hux is self-composed. Whatever Ren is planning on doing, Hux has already evaluated the possible outcomes.

“You claim to be powerful”, Hux starts evenly, “yet you use this helmet as a hiding place. This is not real strength, Ren.”

That’s when Ren stands up.

“I’m dying to hear how _you_ would know anything about real strength, Hux.”

“Well”, Hux says, showing no reaction other than raising his brows, “you are obviously unable to control your emotions. Whatever you’re thinking or feeling, it shows on your face, unguardedly. Real strength means learning how to prevent that from happening, not having someone build a mask to cover it up. It’s no more intimidating than it is evidence for your general incapability.”

It’s obvious that Ren is debating with himself whether to attack Hux or do nothing. The first option would, more or less, prove Hux right, the second would let Ren appear weak. Hux knows he should not find this so amusing.

“So you’re suggesting to become an indifferent, empty shell such as yourself? I’m not interested in that. Power originates in emotion. In hatred, above all. I’m lucky to be forced to drag _you_ along, in that sense.”

“I’m disappointed, Ren. You’re very predictable.”

Hux grabs his bag and searches for his empty water bottle.

“I know you like to do things the easy way. I should have known that there’s no point in challenging you.”

He gets up, walks over to the river, fetches fresh water.

Behind him, he hears a click, a soft hiss.

When Hux turns around, he is greeted by the wild, dark eyes and the black hair he remembers, only that now both are free of unnecessary moisture.

Ren’s unmodulated voice is deep when he speaks, and colder than Hux expected.

“I have a challenge for you, too. Try to reduce the stares you give me every two minutes to a total of three per day. You’re not being as subtle as you think you are.”

“Don’t flatter yourself”, Hux shoots, heart pounding, “having seen you now in this light is enough mediocrity to remember for a lifetime.”

With that, he grabs his bag energetically and stalks away from a vicious looking Ren. Who does he _think_ he is? That just beat everything. Every two minutes? Ridiculous. Apparently, Kylo Ren is not only dim-witted, but _delusional._

At least, Hux is one step closer to receiving the answers to his questions - there was no scar on Ren’s face, meaning that he had observed correctly. Too affronted to even look back to see if Ren is following, Hux keeps walking for a while, mind mostly blanked out by the embarrassment he felt at being called out. He made him take the bucket off, at least.

The farther Hux is walking, the more he comes to terms with the fact that he’ll not be able to risk another look at Ren’s hands today. It’s starting to get cold again, much earlier than yesterday, and Hux swears internally because that means they’ll have to settle down sooner. He’s already growing impatient, feels like they’re not making any progress at all, is waiting for the moment Ren admits to having no idea where they are nor where they’re going. The big reveal might be yet to come: It was all just a huge joke, at Hux’s expense.

_The joke’s on you._

Hux halts abruptly. He’s not sure whether his brain just made that connection automatically or whether somebody actually _whispered_ it to him - he feels distinctly sick, suddenly, and tries with all the concentration he can muster to listen closely for another sound.

Yet there is nothing but his own hushed breaths, which are meanwhile forming to little clouds with each exhale.

Hux remembers saying that particular sentence, and he wishes he wouldn’t. He can’t think of this now, he knows he has to find some sort of distraction, quickly.

He’s gone, he’s dead, there’s no real evidence he was ever alive.

 _Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill_ -

Before he can repeat it, his eyes are drawn to something moving in the distance. Hux squints, trying to figure out if he’s hallucinating or not - there are little spots of light lazily glowing like stars, slowly floating around seemingly mid-air. Dawn might be playing a trick on his eyes, but he welcomes the change of view too much to dismiss it as a delusion.

He doesn’t need to order his body to move, his feet already start carrying him towards the lights by their own accord. There’s a voice calling him, but it’s far away and Hux doesn’t understand what it’s saying anyway.

His pace quickens, and his heart leaps when the lights are slowly recognizable as head-sized, hovering spheres. There are about a hundred of them, and they’re scattered on a tree-less, roundish field. A thin layer of snow is covering the ground, reflecting the warm gleam the lights radiate. It’s quiet at first, but the closer Hux gets, the more vivid they become - whispers.

Coming to a halt, snow crunching beneath his feet, he finds himself in the middle of the field, unsure how he got there, though he doesn’t really mind. He’s there, that’s all that counts. Fresh snowflakes land on his face, his neck, his still bare arms, yet he feels warmer and safer than ever. Cheery laughter melodically fills the air, a child’s voice Hux recognizes as his own. A woman starts singing; Hux knows it’s the voice of his mother, the real one, not the pathetic excuse of a woman his father decided to spend the rest of his miserable life with. He’s only met her once, at the age of four, after having annoyed his father into allowing a meeting. It was the most joyful day of his life, he remembers. She told him stories, took him on a stroll, and gave him a feeling of belonging he hadn’t experienced up to that point, has never again experienced after that meeting.

And now she’s singing, begging him to stay a little while longer.

His father’s idea of praise, Hux recalls, were firm pats on the shoulder and a matter-of-factly spoken _I knew you’d be good for something one day_. Hux would soak the phrase up each time, draw on it for days. It now comfortingly rings in Hux’s ears and he feels a hand patting his shoulder, over and over and over until it feels like a steady, encouraging grip.

He stares deeply into one of the spheres, doesn’t know what he’s searching for, but trusts his knowledge that it’s there, somewhere, all he has to do is reach out and touch -

The air is knocked out of his lungs when the grip on his shoulder violently pulls him backwards. He’s grabbed by his upper arms and is spun around by someone he vaguely realizes must be Ren. Ren yells something, but his voice is muffled by the sudden, blind rage that rises in Hux’s body and makes his blood boil.

“Get your hands off me! _Immediately!"_

“No, Hux! What do you think you were _doing?”_

Hux feels the intense urge to wrangle free, _get back to the light_ the only command he can understand and is willing to follow.

“ _Let me go”,_ Hux hisses, baring his teeth. He starts trembling, or Ren might be shaking him, he can’t tell.

“Hux!”

Everything is a blur, and the rage is growing with every second. Hux feels tears prickling in his eyes, but is too caught up in his anger to hold them back.

He kicks Ren’s knee, even draws a small wail from him, yet to no avail in terms of freeing himself.

Hux leans in, his face inches from Ren’s. Takes in the widening eyes, the shock in them obvious.

“You can’t take this from me”, Hux spits, “the first thing resembling happiness in years. Leave me here, I could not care _less_ what becomes of you and your mission. I did not know it was possible to hate someone the way I hate you-”

The grip loosens, and Ren takes a step back.

Before Hux can turn around to get back to the light, he feels the back of a hand strike his cheek full force and his head connecting with the biting cold of the snow-covered ground.

In a haze, he can hear the whispers slowly dying. For a few seconds, everything is black. His face is wet and he tastes blood. The beginnings of a headache make it even harder to have a clear thought, so Hux doesn’t move, tries to yell but only manages to groan.

When his body is harshly picked up from the ground and carried away, he’s just barely aware of it.

He feels very cold, suddenly, empty. Like someone ripped the last remnants of joy left in him right out of his chest and replaced them with nothing.

He closes his eyes, and only opens them again when he’s being put down to the ground. It’s free of snow, not exactly warm but still comfortable, in a way. His hand grabs for something to hold and he feels dirt and leaves between his fingers, sensation slowly returning to his arms and then the rest of his body. He hears footsteps close to his ear, the tent rustling as it unfolds. He manages to lift his head a bit and watches Ren kneeling down next to him.

“Don’t move.”

Hux complies.

“What happened?”, he asks, somehow he doesn’t really remember.

Ren doesn’t answer, just gives Hux a look he can’t interpret.

Then, Ren reaches out and grabs Hux’s chin without warning. Hux swats at his hand, or at least he tries to do so, but the abrupt movement makes his head spin so he lets his hand slump down again and lies still. Waits. Gradually, he’s coming back to his senses, and his brain resumes its work - this is not good. This is horrible. He’s lying on the ground, a coppery taste in his mouth, his memories of recent events are gone, _Ren is touching his face._ Panic-stricken, Hux feels that his eyes are burning - the way they usually do after crying. No.

No, no, _no._

His hasty attempt at sitting up is thwarted by Ren pushing him back down.

“I said don’t move.”

“Tell me what happened. Right now.”

“You let yourself be _lured_ by Fairlights. You almost got yourself _killed,_ is what happened!”

Ren is furious again. Hux remembers the lights, remembers staring at them.

“Fair- What? I don’t see how that could have happened-”

“No, that’s right. You don’t.”

Ren tilts Hux’s head to the left, then to the right. Scans his eyes until Hux is uncomfortable.

“I was just examining them-”

“You were about to touch one when I found you. That would have bound you to it, and you wouldn’t have been able to let go after that. The rest of them would have swallowed you whole. Fairlights are devious creatures. They lure their prey by showing them things. Visions, or sounds, or memories. Of whatever they long for, but can’t have.”

Hux doesn’t know what to think. Ren’s voice is softer, less accusing when he’s explaining things. And his face looks different. The expression he’s wearing as he checks Hux’s eyes a second time is almost - Hux might still be groggy from the light incident, but Ren’s expression is almost _compassionate._ Like he cares about what happened. For some reason, Hux is more than relieved that Ren isn’t wearing his mask.

Which makes him wonder-

“How come you weren’t lured, Ren?”

“They fear Force-users. I could have drained them of all energy with a wave of my hand. But I don’t need their filthy matter inside of me or anywhere else, people have gone insane trying to absorb it.”

Hux bites the inside of his cheek - and remembers something else.

“Why am I bleeding?”

Ren lets go of his face and scrambles for something in Hux’s bag, which he doesn’t recall taking with him, or leaving somewhere.

“Let’s say I readjusted your mind using - the necessary means.”

For a moment, Hux just gapes at him.

“I cannot believe this. You assaulted me.”

“It was inevitable. You weren’t responding to the other techniques.”

“Ah, yes. And which other techniques did you try, exactly? You could have made me lose consciousness with that Force-trick of yours, I’ve seen you do it with prisoners.”

And then, Ren actually has the audacity to lift his eyebrows in fake astonishment.

“Yes. Now that you say it, I could have.”

With that, he throws Hux his water bottle and gets to his feet.

Hux blinks a few times, dares propping himself up on one elbow. It works, surprisingly, and he’s only slightly sour about Ren’s reply. Hux wonders where this would have gone if Ren hadn’t followed him, if he had chosen to ignore Hux and go on with one less burden in tow.

“Why did you do it? You might have profited of my death.”

Ren gives him an odd stare.

“You can’t die yet.”

He frowns, hesitates before he continues.

“Snoke’s orders.”

Hux watches him vanish into the tent, then. He is not prepared for the wave of fatigue that hits him afterwards - he craves sleep like never before, suddenly, and accepts that he’s too tired to process any of this.

Had he known that Scott Lown would invade his dreams tonight, he would have reconsidered and not gone to sleep at all.


	4. Chapter 4

“Now, would’ya look at that”, comes the drawl from behind him, and Hux tenses. He shouldn’t be in this corridor, at this time of day. Hux has checked his timetable, thrice, and he should not be here.

But he is, and Hux wants the ground to swallow him whole.

If he keeps walking, maybe Lown will change his mind and harass one of his other targets.

“You can’t talk your way out of this one, Hux. Stop running.”

Hux turns around. Lown is not surrounded by his usual crowd at least.

“You try too hard, Lown”, Hux says, suppressing his anxiety the best he can, “You can try to beat me up again. You can have me beaten up by someone more intimidating than you. It won’t change the fact that you’re being thrown out of this school at the end of the year.”

“Ah, yes. Little Armitage made sure of that. Your dad really was displeased at hearing the news - his perfect son, mistreated by the mean Scott. He made it very clear that my career, that my hopes of a glorious future, have been permanently destroyed. I was top of our year, Hux. Was that what made you do it? Or did you just enjoy having daddy pat your head and tell you you’re a _good boy_ after your report?”

Hux sees Lown very clearly, his brown eyes, his sharp features, his blond hair. The hideous freckles that don’t match with the rest of his face. He looks even worse than his ugly sister.

“This is not anywhere near what you deserve.”

Hux approaches him. It doesn’t feel right - doesn’t feel like something he planned to do.

“What you did to me. I will make you pay. You humiliated me, from the second we first entered this school, you made everyone else humiliate me, and I see now that I can’t let you get away with this.”

“Oh. _Now_ I’m curious.”

Hux doesn’t know when or why they got this close. He has to bring an end to it.

“I know things about you, Lown”, he starts, watching the face in front of him drain of all colour, “things that will make you regret ever laying your filthy hands on me. I found something, something that taught me that there are bigger things, too powerful to be comprehended by someone like you. You will see - and that’s a promise - that I’ll be on top in the end, and won’t even remember your name. The joke’s on you.”

That’s when Lown starts laughing, and the sound chills Hux’s blood. Something changes - his voice doesn’t feel familiar like it did in the beginning of the conversation.

“We both know that’s a lie, Hux. What you did still haunts you. I’m still there, in your head, after all these years. And you didn’t even let me tell you. I was ready to admit it, that day, I wanted to confess, because it destroyed me-”

“Shut your mouth! It wouldn’t have changed a thing! I don’t regret doing it, Lown, I’d do it again just to relive the pathetic look you gave me right then!”

“You would have spared me. I know you would have. But you didn’t give me the chance to explain.”

Hux feels too many sensations tear at his insides - dread, repulsion, panic, hatred, guilt - and it makes his head spin.

“Hux”, Lown whimpers, teary eyed, like he’s in pain. “Hux-”

“No!”

 _“Hux!_ Wake _up!”_

Hux tears his eyes open and finds himself lying in the tent, drenched in cold sweat, sleeping bag nowhere to be found. A disturbed looking Ren is staring down at him, his hand quickly retreating from Hux’s shoulder. Hux sits up - too quickly, apparently. He’s close to being sick, sees stars for a second, but manages to gather himself. He’s panting heavily, needs more, fresher air but doesn’t dare move, afraid he might throw up if he does.

It takes him a few moments to realize that it was a nightmare, though it was by no means an ordinary one. No nightmare has ever provoked such a physical reaction, let alone this immense fear he can’t get rid of.

His left cheek burns - he doesn’t need to ask why. His throat feels too tight to let in as much air as he actually needs.

“What was that?”, Ren silently inquires from behind. It sounds childish, in Hux’s ears, foolish.

Honest.

“A nightmare, obviously”, Hux utters, “nothing worth spending a second thought on.”

“You were screaming.”

So much for the _cool-and-detached_ attitude Hux was trying to keep. There has to be a way out of this, a way to make it look like this is all part of the plan. But Hux has difficulties coming up with one, especially since he’ll have to figure out how to stop shaking and calm his respiration first.

Lown’s imaginary presence still looms over him and he can’t shake the feeling off that he’s there with them, in the tent, breathing down Hux's neck. He isn’t worth all this nonsense, he doesn’t deserve being remembered, being thought of, or being feared even beyond death. Hux hates himself for it, for being so weak. His father had been right - Hux can talk, can deliver a fine speech here and there, but he’ll never be a man of action. Can never be dreaded, when he himself is still so full of dread.

Hux buries his face in his hands to hide that his eyes are welling up. He can absolutely not be seen crying by Ren, not again. It’s humiliating enough as it is and Hux is glad he still hasn’t fully digested the gravity of recent events. Not being able to remember anything is a curse and a prodigy at the same time - it deeply disturbs him how he apparently lost control over his mind and body, yet judging from what Ren told him, he’s relieved to have lost all memory of it.

Yet again, Hux wants nothing more than to vanish, right now, right here. He knows he won’t, and he knows he can’t, that much he promised himself long ago. He will not take the easy way out, ever.

Considering that Ren is with him, he’s not sure there even _is_ an easy way to do anything.

Hux wipes at his eyes with one of his sleeves, combs back his damp hair and rests his head on his knees. Very slowly, he’s composing himself.

“I could make you faint.”

Unsure whether he misheard, Hux looks up - waits for Ren to elaborate. Or ridicule him.

“With my _Force-trick_. As you called it. You’d wake up after a few hours, you wouldn’t dream.”

It can’t have been easy for Ren to suggest that. Admittedly, Hux is mildly shocked. Of all the things Ren could have said, it’s this, this offer. Hux knows he must have woken him - Ren must be in need of a few hours of sleep as well and might just not want his peace interrupted by ear-shattering screams. It makes the situation all the more embarrassing.

“No. I’m fine, it’s nothing.”

Hux lies down swiftly, all the while trying to hide his face from Ren. He fails.

The subsequent rustling of Ren’s sleeping bag tells Hux he’s gone back to sleep as well. The lack of hostility or offended huffs leaves Hux wondering what exactly just happened. Ren just provided something that was not spoken venomously, snidely or cynically. There is a chance of him being too tired to really care about what he’s saying, yet there is also a chance of him plotting something. Hux craves an explanation, but decides that it can wait until after he’s had a decent amount of rest.

Something still doesn’t feel right, though.

“I apologize for waking you”, Hux mumbles, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can help it.

He still feels out of place, but better, in a way.

It’s oddly quiet. Ren is holding his breath.  

 

***

 

Hux has gotten used to waking up on his own. It bears no discomfort anymore - it’s reassuring, if anything. He knows that Ren is somewhere outside, sitting around and being shown his path or whatever he may call it.

If he’s being honest with himself, Hux has no idea how to act in front of Ren now that he has seen him at his worst low in years. Hux hasn’t wept like an infant in front of anyone since he was a teenager, and he knows very well why. It was the biggest faux pas he’s allowed himself so far - he can not, under any circumstances, let it happen again.

There is much Hux can read into Ren’s abnormal behaviour. Again, most of his theories are of a conspiratorial sort. Though as hard as Hux tries, he can’t diminish the small, misguided part of him that interprets Ren’s gesture as an offer of help that had nothing to do with his own shady interests.

A repulsive notion, weak, Hux reminds himself. Ren’s intentions are of no importance to Hux until he has actual, concrete proof that Ren intends to harm him in any way. Hux would not be overly surprised if he did, the feeling of dislike being most obviously mutual. Hux's jaw still hurts and his face prickles in several places. He touches it lightly and decides to shave today.

The sound of stray raindrops falling on the tent momentarily diverts Hux’s thoughts from Ren and self-pity. He’s disinclined to put on a raincoat due to the persistent warmth - it will make movement even more tedious and he doesn’t feel too energetic today.

His stomach, meanwhile, reminds him that he didn’t care to eat anything yesterday. He decides to prepare a mash that is supposed to taste like porridge, yet the taste of it is so vague that they could have just as well put any other label on it. After he’s done forcing it down he starts his routine, gathers his things, empties the tent. Moist and warm air is waiting for him outside, just as anticipated, and he has the strange urge to wash his old clothes even though he still has enough fresh things with him. It’s a ridiculous matter to worry about right now, rather insignificant in the context of the misery that is his current life.

Unsurprisingly, the part of the forest he finds himself in is alien to Hux, none of the landmarks he had memorized detectable. He sighs as he realizes that he has lost track completely now.

Better get ready, take down the tent and go looking for Ren. _Better ask him which way to go, show him how dependent you are_ , Hux adds sardonically as an afterthought. Reluctantly, he starts picking up pace and tries to will away the quickly building anxiety at having to face Ren again. However, as there is no avoiding this, Hux keeps going until he sees Ren from a distance, sitting in his usual position close to the river.

This time, Ren seems to hear Hux approaching and gets up as soon as Hux is close enough to see the dark circles under his eyes. He’s never looked particularly healthy, Hux figures, but last night most definitely left its marks on him. Hux’s stomach twists involuntarily.

“Ren. How far are we gone from where you- From the Fairlights?”

Hux is glad he could stop himself from saying _from where you picked me up_ , shame still hot in his belly.

“About an hour.”

“An _hour?”_

“Yes.”

Ren is eyeing Hux openly. Hux preferred it when Ren was still wearing his robes - having to interact while Ren is clad in only this black shirt is unsettling, inconvenient. But what Ren just _said_ is plainly appalling.

“You expect me to believe that you carried _both_ bags, the tent _and_ my lifeless body for an _hour?_ At temperatures below freezing point?”

“I have my methods.”

Hux stares at Ren incredulously. To Hux’s bewilderment, he closes his eyes and shifts into a more stable stance.

At first, nothing happens, just the two of them silently standing there, and Hux takes it as some sort of blunt dismissal. Just when it’s about to get awkward, he becomes aware of movement behind Ren.

A boulder, Hux estimates about a ton heavy, quivers as though the planet is about to be shaken by an earthquake. And then, Hux watches in astonishment as it starts lifting off the ground.

After it reaches head height, another, similar rock follows. All around him, Hux realizes when he turns on the spot, stones start floating in a soft and steady motion, swaying slightly and with ease. It’s an impressive sight, Hux grudgingly admits to himself.

He directs his gaze back at Ren, who still stands rooted to the spot with his eyes closed. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flex, and Hux’s eyes follow their outlines down to Ren’s hands - they’re bare, but curled into fists. Hux shivers despite the high temperatures.

He’s at a loss. The main reason for thinking less of Ren used to be the assumption that all that talk about the Force and all this spiritual business was fictional nonsense. It was always, and still is, a topic Hux has a hard time grasping - just words, tricks, illusions. Practices like _meditation_ only making it more preposterous. It’s only logical Hux would call someone like Ren a freak.

But this - this is real. Hux’s heart is pounding.

“Did the Supreme Leader teach you this?”

Ren opens his eyes.

“No. He helped me hone it.”

“Who did, then?”

Ren's eyes widen as he seems to realize his mistake.

“That’s none of your business.”

The look on Ren’s face darkens, but now that Hux has asked, he can’t drop the matter again. Their eyes meet.

“Show me your hands.”

“What?”

“Your hands. I want to see them.”

First, Ren seems puzzled, irritated at the request. Then realization seems to hit him, and irritation turns into hostility.

“What do you hope to find, Hux? A remedy for your control mania?”

“I assume I’ll find an unscarred palm that is just as perfectly intact as your face, which is supposed to be ripped in two. I know what’s going on here, Ren. Why can’t people know you were a Jedi once? Snoke certainly praises you for it.”

Ren shakes his head, stares.

“I never was a Jedi.”

“Yes, you were. Don’t deny it.”

“You’re wrong.”

“The water healed you. You were one of them-”

“I never was a _Jedi!_ Ben Solo was!”

Hux jumps as every rock falls back to the ground simultaneously, the noise and the vibration startling the birds sitting in the nearby trees. Reflexively, Hux had closed his eyes in the process and opens them again to see Ren still standing there, face contorted in fury, chest heaving.

“But I killed him, so I could become everything he wasn’t. You like to imagine you know everything, _Hux,_ when in reality you are an ignorant fool. Does your own dull life make you want to pry around in mine? _None_ of this concerns you, so stick to whatever Snoke told you and stop making up absurd fantasies.”

 _Whatever Snoke told you._ It didn’t sound like a well rehearsed lie - does that mean Ren has not yet figured out what Hux’s mission is?

The relief only lasts so long. Hux got into a fight with Ren even though he hadn’t intended to. He guesses it’s the nature of their shallow, competitive relationship - the fights come easily, they don’t exactly need to search for them. On the one hand, Hux doesn’t care. Ren is an infuriatingly simple person, it doesn’t take much to wind him up, he thinks too highly of himself.

On the other hand, he saved Hux’s life.

“Look, Ren”, Hux begins, not sure where he wants this conversation to go, “I have little interest in who you are, or were, or where you came from, I am here because I was ordered to accompany you. As long as there is nothing more intriguing to think about - and I assume this is not going to happen any time soon since all we get to see here are trees and rocks - I will _make up_ as many _absurd fantasies_ as I please. This one has proven to be correct, judging by your reaction. It’s your own fault, really. You keep your silence about what we’re actually here for, I continue making assumptions about it. I’m not buying that you are absolutely clueless about our destination. Feel free to do things your way, I have known you for years and gotten used to your infantile quirks, but don’t you dare forbid me what to think.”

Not exactly what Hux intended to tell Ren, the initially planned phrase not as easily spoken as presumed. He might get back to that another time.

For a second, Hux imagines Ren is about to show discernment. He looks like he’s contemplating Hux’s words, like he’s seriously considering whether to accept them. Hux had assumed that his rebuke would at least double Ren’s rage, but instead he is only met with preoccupied eyes and more silence.

Ben Solo, he said. Became everything he never was. There must be more to Ren’s unstable mental condition and his regular overly emotional fits than just a lack of maturity. Hux finds it hard to imagine becoming someone else. How much do you have to hate yourself to not only leave your former self behind, but _eliminate_ it? Is that even possible? Certainly, there are days Hux wishes to be someone else, someone with less responsibility and more power, but giving in to this unreasonable idea of metaphorical suicide has never been a serious option.

“Snoke told me this planet conceals one of the oldest Jedi temples in existence.”

Hux looks up at Ren’s statement, torn from his thoughts.

“I am to find it and retrieve something for him. Those are my instructions. He reassured me that I would know what to bring him at seeing it.”

It does sound like something the Supreme Leader would say. He had been rather vague with Hux’s instructions as well, though Hux had believed Ren to have gotten more detailed insight.

If he’s not telling only parts of the truth, that is.

It’s a start nonetheless. Now Hux has a mental picture of what awaits him, in the end - either Ren manages to retrieve the mysterious object, or he doesn’t. Hux decides not to think of the remaining procedures until an actual need arises.

“Can I enter a facility of that like? As a person who - you know. Is unfamiliar with your kind of business.”

“Yes. Weak-minded people can enter Jedi temples.”

It takes a lot of willpower to not make any spiteful remarks about _Ren’s_ state of mind.

But Hux knows when it’s best to just drop a matter and give it a rest. Not every fight that occurs can be won - Hux learned that the hard way after his father spent years telling him otherwise.

“Good. Let’s get going, then.”

Hux makes to return to their bags, satisfied with how taken aback Ren looked at him not fighting back. Soon, quick footsteps tell him Ren is catching up with him.

“Are you ill?”, he asks from behind, just the slightest bit out of breath, “The blow must have been more effective than I thought.”

“I’m just tired, Ren. Of this. Of you. It’s leading nowhere.”

Ren seems displeased, but doesn’t say anything.

Once again, it’s time for a long, depressingly silent walk. Mostly, Hux enjoys not having to listen to Ren’s voice, however today he isn’t too fond of the idea of being left to his thoughts. He doesn’t trust them anymore, they don’t feel entirely like his own, lately.

The rain has stopped, and Hux appreciates the minor change in temperature.

Even though he’s walking some steps ahead of Ren, Hux feels him radiate discontent. He secretly likes the thought of Ren seethingly staring holes into his back, likes the pressure that comes with it. Likes the knowledge that he’s the source for Ren’s annoyance. That he can make Ren momentarily forget about everything else, and focus solely on Hux.

He wonders where that last thought came from and banishes it quickly.

It’s obvious why it’s so easy for Hux to get Ren’s undivided attention - there’s not much he could be paying attention to instead. Hux has said so himself. Apart from that, there should be no reason for Hux to enjoy Ren acknowledging him. It’s a piteous, feeble-minded thing to want, a need reserved for people who have nothing more significant to crave.

He involuntarily thinks back to his last speech on Starkiller Base, to the enormous pride he’d felt. His mind had been reeling, filled with scenarios in which he would inform his father about his success, in which his father would feel just as proud.

Eventually, there is nothing to tell, and nothing to be proud of. Strictly speaking, Hux isn’t even a General anymore, if only for an indefinite period. He’s cried and made a fool out of himself in front of the person he disdains most.

Or, should disdain most. Hux is not so sure if he’s actually capable of hating Ren the way he wished he would after what happened, now that thinking about Ren has become a borderline obsessive habit of his.

Ben Solo. There it is again, the desire to get to the bottom of things.

The name Solo is, of course, familiar to Hux. He doesn’t know many people or creatures going by that name, though there are a few. _Economical connections, however strenuous to maintain, are most essential if one strives for success_. A phrase they reused at the Academy various times, and one Hux took very seriously. He knows his enemies just as well as he knows his allies, takes his time to study them thoroughly, has even established a separate department at the First Order that exclusively concentrates on investigating in their enemies’ personal lives by whatever means necessary. Hux remembers having been hugely irritated when Snoke had forbidden him to execute those investigations for Ren.

He’s done his work for Leia Organa. That was when the name Solo had occurred - but while Organa was examined and filed as a potential threat, Han Solo was considered a marginal inconvenience, at the most. He might have played his part in opposing and ultimately destroying the Empire, his liaison with Organa makes him an enemy, but he seems to be hardly involved in her political and military activities. A rogue, from what Hux had gathered, doing crooked jobs to get by. Most of the people they questioned about him claimed to have been tricked by him, or that they’re still waiting for his payment, or that they’ve had something stolen by him before.

Again, Hux can only guess. There was this rumor, while Ren was rehabilitating after Starkiller collapsed, that he killed his father that day. Hux generally doesn’t pay much attention to rumors, finding gossip only tolerable if it’s used as a strategical, communicational device. However, as it concerned Ren, he had listened in on a conversation between two Stormtroopers, one of which had apparently been present when it happened. _He wanted him to come home,_ the one had said, _didn’t hear all of it, but he didn’t wear the mask. Pierced him with his lightsaber, threw him off the bridge._ Hux remembers how Phasma caught them chatting and instructed them to report to her division then, and for the first time Hux had been angry with her for fulfilling her duty. He might have learned more about the dubious patricide.

As it is, Hux can’t know for sure, but is determined to find out what it’s all about. It’s enough to keep his thoughts occupied for a while and distract him from the fact that his feet feel too tired to be taking him very far today.

It’s approximately an hour later that the river makes a sharp turn and the trees become sparser.

“We won’t follow this river any longer”, Ren says as he comes to a halt next to Hux, “but there will come another. We will leave the forest, for now.”

From where he stands, he can make out a field bordering on the forest’s edge. Leaving the forest might be a good thing to do, a relief, Hux thinks. The feeling of being caged, encircled, has become more smothering with each day, and he realizes that he hasn’t had a clear view of the sky since the day they arrived.

Thus, that is the first thing he does after passing the last few trees - he looks upwards.

A grey wall of clouds is what he finds, and a few birds flying past, screeching. Hux stands still for a moment, takes a deep breath. The air here feels fresher in his lungs than the forest air did, most likely due to the better circulation. The sweetish smell of it is familiar, Hux notices.

He then examines the field in front of him more closely.

Cropgold, he instantaneously identifies. It’s odd at first, being reminded of his mother in this particular way, on this particular planet. The day he met her she took him to a field overgrown with cropgold because it was a plant typical for the system she lived in, the system Hux forgot the name of. He recalls being fascinated by every word she told him about it - how it’s very rare, how its seeds look like they’re made of gold, glistening when the sun hits them, but losing their shine after they’re carried away by the wind. Hux finds it irritating, in retrospect, that she chose to tell him about their brilliance, about how the flowering periods last only three days and happen only once per year, and about how beautiful and unique they are to watch, when she could have told him about how incredibly much they’re worth and about how some would kill to get their hands on a bagful.

The irony almost hurts - Hux now has this entire field right in front of him, apparently in flower if the faint twinkles everywhere across the area are any indication, aggregate value easily sufficient to finance the build of another Starkiller, yet he can't make any use of it. Has nothing to transport it with, has no one to contact to come and get it, has nowhere to put it. He has tried locating his mother’s system before, he has ordered subordinates to do so, yet to no avail.

Meanwhile, Ren has silently creeped up behind Hux and joins him in watching the field.

“What are you waiting for, Hux? For the temple to magically shoot up from the earth?”

“Don’t you know what this is? I don’t fancy going through this.”

“It’s a field. Crop.”

“It’s _cropgold,_ and it’s blooming, so unless you want gold particles all over your equipment we’ll need to find a way to bypass it.”

“We cannot take a route around it. That would take half a day.”

Hux ponders that. It’s only a mild incommodity actually, but still something about entering this field makes him hesitant. There was another thing, another characteristic the plants had, yet Hux can’t seem to remember it - they either wait until he does or avoid it altogether, and neither of these options is realistic at the moment. So Hux decides it’s not worth losing time for.

“Fine. Let’s hurry”, Hux mutters, shrugs to right his bag and starts leading the way.

For the first few meters, he tries his best not to stomp down any of the the waist-high crop, but he soon comes to the conclusion that it’s futile. The density of growth is too high to evade every single plant, so after a while he stops trying and concentrates on keeping his pace. He will pick three or four plants as soon as they leave the field, just for the sake of it - the seeds might survive this journey and come in handy one day.

It doesn’t take long for Hux's trousers to be covered with the glittering substance. He has his hands curled tightly around the straps of his bag in an attempt to not get any of the seeds onto them. He’s still frantically trying to remember what it was that made the cropgold so hard to get, why there is a whole system overgrown with it and nobody cares to take over and steal it, and what it was that his mother told him about not going near it during flowering season.

Ren is not making any noise as usual, the only sound indicating his presence that of his frequent, heavy steps.

It had something to do with inhaling too much of it - something to do with the weather -

They’ve covered slightly more than half of the distance when Hux feels a light breeze ruffle his hair. Rustling from all around him fills his ears, and when his memory comes back to him it’s already too late. The clouds break up, and warm sunshine hits his face, floods the field and bathes everything in light.

The display is almost too bright to see clearly. The crops start swaying in the steadily intensifying wind and reflect the sunlight like an ocean, flashes of gold everywhere blinding Hux momentarily.

 _Breathing in the seeds will make your head go fuzzy_ , _so don’t you go near a field on a windy day._ She had said it with a smile, and still Hux had felt that she was being very serious about it.

Hux is close to jogging, his mind trying to translate that into an explanation she would have given an adult.

“Ren, let’s get out of here, quickly. Keep your breathing to a minimum.”

“What?”

“Don’t breathe in too deeply -”

Hux is then interrupted by a wind gust sweeping through the field, glittery dust swirling through the air and up into the sky. He feels some of it gently landing on his face, discovers that it’s no use trying to brush it off his jacket, and before he knows it he’s already coughing.

He keeps going and hopes that it won’t affect him, or that maybe the effects set in slowly and only after they’ve left the field, but he starts giving up on this hope at realizing that his head is already beginning to feel lighter and his steps are slightly off balance. His concentration diminishing, he wonders what Ren is up to, and slows down until he stops.

The illusion of inebriation it is, then.

Shockingly enough, Hux is already beyond caring to fight it, gripped by a sudden sense of safety and optimism. He finds it hard to make his eyes focus on anything in particular, with the gold and the plants and the sunlight everywhere, so he just looks around for a while, mind more or less blank.

Ren, right. Is Ren still there? Hux turns around unsteadily, thinking of the last time he got properly drunk. He’d been on his own, in his quarters, and he’d been done, with everything and everyone. He’d felt so awful the morning after that he swore to try a different coping mechanism next time. The thoughts he’d had were disturbing, never to be thought again. He’d almost left his room to go search for Ren and yell at him that night, without any apparent reason. Why is it that he remembers this?

Ren. Hux steadies himself, forces his eyes open. When he manages to bring Ren’s face into focus, the look on it is one Hux is sure he will not be able to get out of his head for a long time.

He looks positively awestruck - wide-eyed, searching Hux’s face, a hint of irritation tugging at his brows, making them crease. Ren’s stance doesn’t appear to be too robust either, or it could be Hux’s limited perceptual capacity that makes Ren seem to be swaying slightly.

Ren doesn’t blink, simply stares, and with growing horror Hux realizes that this is exactly the kind of attention he wants, despite knowing better. That it causes his stomach to twist. That he _savors_ it. He wants to avert his eyes in disgust, come up with an effective insult and leave, but something is keeping his eyes fixed on Ren, his ridiculous gold-covered face, his ridiculous creased brow, his ridiculous black undershirt, his ridiculous everything. Hux feels like he might just never move another inch. All these sentiments are strange and unbidden, they’re the epitome of absurdity, but Hux can’t bring himself to mind as long as he can keep standing here, shivering under Ren’s gaze. While Ren’s looks of hatred and enmity make him grow, _this_ look makes him feel like he’s shrinking, unworthy.

The worst part is that he welcomes it, and there’s no one to blame but himself. He feels like the world is slowing down for a moment, like it wants only the best for Hux, make him feel safe. But Hux doesn’t deserve it, so he has to make it stop. Hux can deny ever having thought of Ren as anything other than a disruptive factor, a _nuisance,_ yet he knows for sure that no matter what he comes up with now, whatever he’ll say to Ren, whatever he’ll tell himself - nothing will erase the thoughts he just had. His hand twitches. The urge to touch Ren’s face is so sudden that it makes him catch his breath.

He starts panicking. Ren might have _heard._ Hux starts turning away, but is stopped when Ren speaks.

“Freckles”, he whispers out of nowhere, and Hux is unsure whether he misheard.

“Excuse me?”

Ren’s face changes from dreamy to aghast so quickly that Hux is torn out of his trance, too.

“I- the particles, on your face. They look like - you know what, how about you walk on, Hux? You’re blocking the way. Maybe I should lead the way again since you are too fond of lingering around. There is actual _work_ to do.”

“Stop staring then, and go”, Hux replies, agreeing that whatever just took place should not be discussed further. Automatically, he starts rubbing at his face with his sleeve.

A soft blur keeps creeping over his eyes and he almost tumbles to the ground when Ren passes him hastily and bumps into him in the process, like he did the other day - though Hux presumes it’s not because he meant to, but rather because he’s just as incapable of keeping his balance as Hux is.  

Hux follows Ren out of the field, still dazed and unable to think clearly when they reach its border. Taking one last, admiring look at it, he wonders why he has this underlying urge to pick some of the plants and take them with him. Hux squints, tries to concentrate - it’s on the tip of his tongue, but however hard he tries to remember, he seems to have no access to it. He decides that it’s irrelevant - he can’t see why he would even consider dragging more ballast with him. After all, he has no real use for it. It’s just crop.


	5. Chapter 5

While it was agonizing to wake up with a headache that felt like it might make his head burst at any moment, it was most definitely fun to watch Ren sobering up.

It’s windy, close to stormy as Hux sits on the ground ripping up random blades of grass. The last rays of the rising sun were swallowed up by dark clouds just moments ago. He’s spent all morning drinking water, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time, trying to reflect on what happened but finding himself not really in an optimal condition to do that.

If Hux had had a say, they would have continued their journey for another two hours yesterday, however as Ren had decided to sit down and silently gape at nothing after ten minutes of walking and could not be convinced to keep moving, Hux had fretfully cast the tent and gone to sleep early.

Accordingly, he woke up before sunrise - and at finding that Ren was gone, he simply put on his two big coats and sat down outside to watch the last tiny stars disappear. He discovered that there were indeed two blue moons illuminating the sky, one a lot larger than the other. Soon after dawn made them fade, he plundered his provisions, having gotten incredibly hungry all of a sudden. Now there’s only half of what he originally packed left and he can only hope they’ll find the temple before Ren turns it into a joke to make him hunt his own food. He won’t try eating berries or plants on this planet, trusting they will either kill him or make him go insane in whatever way.

Getting rid of the stinging pain flooding his head wasn’t easy - in fact, it’s still aching in some parts - yet Hux is sure that seeing Ren go to sleep an hour ago very much contributed to his recovery. Ren was a mess. Hux watched him appear behind a few trees, shoot an equally loathing and exhausted look in Hux’s direction and disappear into the tent. He has not made a single sound since then, much to Hux’s satisfaction.

Hux scratches at his face and sneers when there is still golden glitter under his fingernails. The seeds should have stopped sparkling by now, if he remembers correctly. However, it’s inconsequential. Falling into a state of complete despair is becoming gradually harder to resist and Hux is at a point where he considers giving in to the temptation. He’s seldomly ever felt quite so distraught, and he’s unacquainted with the feeling of not knowing what to do. There’s a discrepancy, somewhere inside him, and he feels he lacks the knowledge on how to fix it. He hasn’t felt that way in years, can’t explain why he does now, and it only seems to get worse with each day.

Hux is desperate for the other river Ren promised and already fantasizes about jumping into it. This time, he won’t pay any attention to Ren and he’ll stay in the water for as long as he sees fit. Maybe he’ll just stay there, wait until he’s carried away and finds himself in a different place, away from Ren and his face. Now, being able to think more rationally, he knows that whatever he imagined yesterday can never be brought to mind again.

A wind gust plays with his hair and he puts up one of his hoods. This area of the planet is even duller than the forest was, a wide range of nothingness with patches of grass and stray bushes. A tree here and there. Even though there’s nothing to block Hux’s view, he can’t make out anything in the distance.

There’s a faint saltiness to the next breeze that cools Hux’s face. Closing his eyes, he imagines an ocean, an enormous wave building at the horizon. On this imaginary beach, there is no one but him – he doesn’t appreciate it the way he thought he would. He’s sitting there, sand rough against his palms, excitedly revelling in the tension that comes with waiting for the masses of water to engulf him. The need to run scrapes at the far back of his consciousness, but he decides to ignore it because he’s comfortable: He never exactly loved the beach, however this beach is magnificent in a way other beaches aren’t. Plus, if he leaves, he’ll never know what’s waiting for him behind the massive wall of water, and something tells him he’ll never get another chance to see it. He’s nervous, but at peace.

That is, until he sees it.

It’s lying close to the shore, in between rocks and seaweed, and it looks exactly the way Hux remembers it. He’s unsure if trusting his eyes is the right thing to do, now that he has other plans, now that he’s already engaged in waiting for the wave. Although his body is trying to keep him cemented to the warm sand, his mind is dragging him towards the tiny object, needing Hux to pick it up and never lose it again. He’s more than tempted to close his hand around it once more after all these years, and see what happens.

So he crawls over, the curiosity unbearable by the time he reaches it – it’s there, right there for him to take, and he regrets every minute he spent without it. Its oval, longish shape and its sickly green glow are still enticing, its liquid, golden core swirling underneath is still the most beautiful phenomenon that ever graced Hux’s eyes. The inscription, the symbols on it are still missing. Hux had secretly hoped they might have reappeared.

He stretches out his hand, easily, light-hearted and giddy, and grabs it, feels it resting coolly and smoothly in his fist for a moment.

Hux realizes his mistake only when the sky darkens and the temperature drops drastically. A violent shiver almost makes him drop the object.

The voice behind him is familiar, but the panicked tone to it is strange.

_“Please. Take me with you, there’s still room on your ship – I need to leave –”_

He wants to express his confusion, but his mother’s voice is muffling every other sound. He sees her standing at the beach, talking to a bearded, grim looking Balosar with two grey antennapalps.

_“I beg you, please! I will pay, I will do anything, just help me survive!”_

The wave is close, Hux knows that, but he can’t empathize with her apparent state of upset. The water won’t hurt, it will enlighten.

_“I have a son, I can’t die until I’ve seen him one last time –“_

She doesn’t finish her sentence. Her voice is replaced by the rumbling weight of the wave vibrating in Hux’s ears, already breaking and foaming aggressively.

The atmosphere changes, and with all sense of security dissolving, Hux sees that the water bears no enlightenment for his mother, never has.

“I’m here”, he says, feebly, taken aback by his own stupidity.

“I’m here! Mother, over here –“

The Balosar is gone, and Hux watches as the wave crashes down relentlessly with an ear-shattering noise.

“No!”

The sound is lost to the ocean, the weight of it pressing down on Hux’s lungs and robbing him of his last breath. He keeps his eyes shut, blindly waving about in search of something, _anything_ to hold on to. He doesn’t dare breathe, and when he’s certain he’s about to lose consciousness, he feels himself falling, his stomach doing somersaults. It’s painless when he lands abruptly on solid ground.

Disorientated and panic-stricken, he scrambles to get up, looks around wildly. He needs a moment to adjust to the lack of buzzing in his ears and to determine his current location, but when he recognizes where he is, he calms slightly.

He’s in the library, at the Academy. It’s one of the places he spent most of his time in – seeking shelter, sometimes, but more often than not to enjoy the tranquillity and the sterile, precise arrangement of the books. He liked to be one step ahead of everyone else, too, occasionally reading advanced books too complex for him to see through at that time, the only thing they really offered him being a chance to brag. To feel like he was good enough in a way he knew he wasn’t.

Hux unfolds his hand to examine the object, but it’s not there.

Instead, he notices a shimmer from the corner of his eye, and finds it in the place he found it when he was still a cadet. He approaches the chromium-plated table, the one hidden from the rest of the library, and gets to his knees. It’s weirdly chilly, and darker than Hux recalls, yet it makes the object shine all the brighter. More carefully this time, he reaches out, hoping to find the inscription has appeared again.

It hasn’t, however Hux manages to take it, and this time, nothing happens. It’s heavy and cold in his closed fist, as cold as ice, actually. What will he do now? He’ll wait until the signs show up, until he can read them again and repeat them in his head as often as his sanity permits. But he’ll have to take it away first, to a safer place.

Hux turns around and is immediately stopped by something blocking his way. His insides turn when he realizes what it is.

He takes a few hasty steps back, knocks over a chair.

Lown looks repulsive. His face is sunken in, his skin ashen, a light blue tinging his cheeks. The tiny purple veins underneath his eyes remind Hux of a broken porcelain vase. His pupils are dilated, his cheekbones look threateningly close to piercing through the almost transparent skin covering them. Not a single breath is emanating from him, his chest is still, like a statue he just stands and punishes Hux with an unforgiving stare, freezing him in place.

The top buttons of his ragged shirt look torn open, some of them missing, and with terror Hux finds the area of white chest peeking out covered with red scratch marks.

If Lown weren’t slowly, shakily raising a thin hand to stretch it out towards Hux, he might have tried to run, despite the subconscious awareness that there is no way around this. Death is ogling Hux through Lown’s eyes. Hux can feel it thickening the air and reaching out for him, tightening his throat while making it feel treacherously reassuring. The object in his right hand becomes so cold that it hurts, and in fear of it leaving a wound on his palm, he drops it. Hux starts uselessly grabbing at invisible hands, trying with all his remaining energy to free himself of their grip.

 _“This is what it felt like, Hux”_ , Lown rasps, _“And you didn’t even let me tell you.”_

But Hux can’t reply.

_“You watched, and you stayed longer than you had to. You stayed dangerously long. They almost caught you.”_

Lown’s cold eyes shift to the floor, where the object is lying. His face pinches up, as though the movement of his eyes is causing him pain.

_“You have no use for this. You are too weak to handle it.”_

His voice is different, stronger, deeper.

_“Remember what you are here for, General Hux.”_

And then, Lown starts moving towards him and there is nothing Hux can do but writhe and gasp for air. He shuts his burning eyes and waits.

When nothing happens, he blinks them open again - the press around his neck dissolves, and he sucks in as much air as he can. It doesn’t feel reviving. The sense of being hunted remains, and Hux looks around.

He’s neither in the library nor is he about to get strangled by Scott Lown, he’s alone, in a dark place. A black void is surrounding him, he can’t make out the ground he’s standing on. Hux frisks his face. It’s wet, but he can’t determine the cause of it.

The disfigured face of Snoke appears unexpectedly. It’s illuminated, even though there is nothing but darkness surrounding the two of them. Hux is relieved - until he tries approaching the face and finds himself unable to. He wants to address it, but the words die on his tongue.

_“General. Report.”_

The voice is clear and cold, it’s all around Hux, _inside_ of him, omnipresent, and he feels frail and abject under the impassive glare the Supreme Leader is giving him - which is a sensation he’s never had before while facing the Supreme Leader. He’s ashamed - of what, he’s not sure. Hux is irresolute all of a sudden.  He can’t access enough words to form a coherent sentence and is too shaken and worn out to remember what it was that he should be reporting.

“Supreme Leader, I’m -”

_“Kylo Ren is whom I’m enquiring about.”_

“Yes, my. My apologies. Kylo Ren -”

Kylo Ren. What is there to say about him? The gleamy blue face comes to Hux's mind, along with nervously trembling hands and sad eyes. But is that really something worth reporting? After all, the real mission is yet to come, and Hux can’t really wrap his mind around everything that’s happened yet.  And yes, it’s interesting information, but is it interesting enough to waste the Supreme Leader’s time? It’s not unlikely he already _saw_ it somehow, anyway. And they’re not even very far into the mission yet, accordingly, there is not much to tell, is there?

“No signs of non-conformity concerning Ren, Supreme Leader.”

_“Good. Very good. Be most attentive. My trust can only be betrayed once, General, and your failure with Starkiller Base was not easy to forgive. Remember what you are here for.”_

The face vanishes into thin air and it gets dark again. The invisible ground starts turning like Hux is standing on a potter’s wheel, his feet solidly sticking to it, keeping him from moving, and as he is about to scream for help, he wakes up.

All he can see when he opens his eyes is a light grey, bright and painful - it takes him a while to realize that he has not in fact gone blind, but is lying on his back and staring up at the sky.

He’s panting heavily and shivering uncontrollably, his lungs stinging with each inhale and his throat dry as though he hasn’t drunk anything in days.

When Hux rolls to his side and hurriedly gets to his feet, the ground seems to be slipping away beneath him and he almost falls - he manages to drag himself to the next shrub before he is violently sick.

His mind is aflame, unable to categorize the many different thoughts simultaneously trying to get his attention. Beads of sweat drip languidly to the ground while he’s bending over. A distant, intermittent beeping fills his ears.

After a few minutes, his stomach stops clenching and feels mostly empty. It’s not like Hux has eaten much, anyway.

He wants to sit down, but fears that he might not be strong enough to get up on his own again. The last thing he wants is for Ren to find him and help him up, or even worse, make Hux explain what’s wrong.

Because, frankly, Hux has no idea what exactly just happened.

That was no dream. It felt too real - it was too detailed, too intense both mentally and physically to be a regular nightmare. And he can’t remember feeling particularly tired either.

It’s still stormy, and Ren is still nowhere to be seen. Hux decides to get something to drink to flush down the feeling of tiny knives slicing at the insides of his throat with each swallow. Knees wobbly and vision blurry he makes his way over to the tent, the utter exhaustion residing in each of his bones making him stagger in the merciless wind.

It has been so long since he last longed for the Ubiquitum in his hands, and Hux is clueless as to why he would long for it now.

He’s never really forgotten about it, that is true. However, he would not have guessed that he would one day think about it again like he used to when he was still naive and weak-willed.

The memory of the day he found it is one of the clearest he has, just like the one with his mother showing him the cropgold - there are certain memories he could never rid himself of completely, however hard he tried. It had been just another day, just another escape from Lown to the depths of the library on an unexciting, rainy afternoon. Hux had made sure to hide from everyone’s view, as usual, had picked a random book and started flipping through the pages, as usual. He’d sat down at his favourite chromium-plated table and had gotten lost in the book, which had turned out to be about chemical engineering processes. _A Thermal Oscillator for Optimization of Control_ was the name of the chapter he’d read, and the pages had looked like no one had ever cared to touch them before Hux had. After a while, he had noticed a shimmer at the corner of his vision and had followed it to find that intriguing little object. And that had been when it had happened: A bright flash of green light, slowly receding to a faint glow, and there they were - the signs. Letters, to be precise - Hux remembers having to turn the object a few times to be able to read them correctly - and they looked so alien, new, even though it was nothing more than simple Aurebesh. Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill, it read. _Might,_  in Basic. Hux had found it a bit exorbitant at first. Someone had obviously thought it amusing to project their absurd power fantasies onto this thing and give it an importance it’s actually unworthy of. He’d believed it to be a joke. And then, the letters had started to fade, and the objects’ glow had died, and Hux had been hooked. He’d taken it with him that day, determined to find out more about it and hoping it might be of use to him in some way.

In the following months, Hux’s consumption of books had become excessive. He’d read many essays on and theories about power relations in the galaxy, of order and disorder, harmony and disharmony. Speculations, mostly, but some of them frighteningly convincing. He’d watched holo-records, had paid special attention whenever artifacts were discussed in class, nothing ever providing him any tangible information - when one day, he’d found the book he’d been looking for. He had never intended to go to this part of the library; No one at the Academy who wanted to be taken seriously would have ever let themselves be seen there, yet after months of reading it had been the last section that was left for Hux to search.

It had been kept tidy, but only for the sake of order and standardization. Even though the book had been placed in the center of the lowest shelf, it had caught Hux’s attention immediately, a thin golden line tracing its back. Studying it had been tiring, its contents much too vague and unfounded for his liking. The amount of nonsense had increased with each chapter, but in the end Hux had discovered what he’d been looking for. He’d found out that the object was not in fact a joke made by infantiles, but a unique artifact called _Ubiquitum,_  one of which neither age nor origin could be determined exactly. Everything the book told Hux about it was nowhere near scientific, just collections of tales, myths and rumors, and yet Hux had read every last detail, driven by the idea of finding out how to use it. Phrases like ‘unlimited power’ and ‘might beyond imagination’ had sprung up here and there, making him high on power he didn’t even possess, and it didn’t take long until he was positively obsessed with it.

That had changed abruptly the day the Ubiquitum vanished.

If Hux hadn’t seen it dissolve with his own eyes he would’ve been convinced someone had taken it from him, but it had lain right next to him on his desk in his room when its outlines had slowly faded until it was gone. At first, Hux had panicked. He knew he hadn’t actively used it and didn’t actually gain anything from merely carrying it around in his pocket, but still he’d felt lost without it.

It hadn’t kept his thoughts occupied for long after that, however. Hux’s mind had quickly become busy with things like exams, combat training or keeping his belongings safe. The only thing that remained of the mysterious object was the thought that there must be more ways to bring order to this galaxy than the Academy taught him, and that whatever might become of him - he’d remember that his discovery, however unhelpful then, would one day mean something. That it would help him acquire the influence and power he deserves. There had been times in the following years where Hux would have likely gone insane had he not clung to this belief.

And yet, to this day, up until this horrifying experience he just had, he had successfully shoved that object and the desire to possess it to the back of his mind.

It’s this place. This planet. Hux doesn’t have any other explanation. He tries to pull open the zipper of the tent, but his hand is shaking too hard to grab the tiny thing, and bending over feels like someone turned off gravity.

Hux sits down, more slumping than actually making a controlled movement, and waits.

He _lied_ to the Supreme Leader. He didn’t report like he intended to, without any valid excuse. Snoke can’t have possibly believed him, he must have seen through it the moment Hux opened his mouth.

His mother. Hux knows nothing about her whereabouts, has no clue whether she is still alive or not, but he feels like he was just shown the answer.

He slings his arms around his knees, not knowing what to do, to think or to feel, so he decides to remain in this state of being only bodily present until he feels strong enough to get up.

The sound of the tent’s walls fluttering in the wind is all Hux hears for various minutes, the grey horizon all he sees.

“Hux?”

It’s Ren. _Remember what you are here for._

Hux turns his head to see Ren peeking out of the tent, hair a mess and eyes barely open. It’s bizarrely reassuring and ridiculous at the same time, to see that Ren is capable of looking like that. Hux tries to think of something to say, but since Ren hasn’t really asked a specific question, he deems it wiser to save his energy and not reply at all.

“We need to leave. We’ve wasted too much time already. I’ve seen water, lots of it. There might be a lake, or even an ocean ahead. So. You might want to get ready.”

Hux’s muscles tense all at once. His first impulse is to say _No_ and _We can’t go there._ He’s lucky Ren is not even waiting for him to answer, already retreating into the tent.

The fear of going there is most unreasonable. Hux should not be putting so much faith in a turbid vision his mind most likely made up out of confusion and general exhaustion - but still his stomach clenches at the thought of arriving and seeing the wave coming for them at the horizon.

He shakes his head, which instantly results in renewed nausea, and this time, it’s persistent.

Even after an hour of walking, Hux doesn’t feel the slightest improvement. He tries to focus on other things, like the soft grass slowly ebbing away and transitioning into a rocky, uneven terrain, or the air getting saltier and the wind harsher, but it’s no use. He feels thinned out, like a lesser, damaged version of himself. Not beyond repair, but enough to be feeling useless.

Hux suddenly wishes Ren would talk, maybe share more of what he saw while meditating, but all he does is hush and make Hux feel even more useless. Ren doesn’t trust him, Hux reckons, doesn’t trust him with more detailed knowledge. Hux never thought of it as an insult before, yet he’s offended by it now - even though he knows he doesn’t show that kind of trust towards Ren either. His chest aches, and no matter how deeply he inhales the crisp air, he can’t free himself of it.

Gravel crunches beneath their feet, and soon they have to jump from rock to rock in order to get across the gorge-like cracks that rip open the ground. It’s a few minutes later that a break comes into sight and they’re standing on a cliff’s edge. The sound of the sea makes Hux uneasy. He shuffles closer to the brink and peeks down - the shore is approximately twenty feet beneath them, the water languidly gliding back and forth on the sandy ground. No wave at the horizon, no mother begging for her life, just the inexplicable tension keeping Hux on edge even after discovering that there is no reason for him to feel that way. His bag is too heavy, suddenly, pressing down on him as though it knows he can’t put up resistance. Staring down into the abyss makes him dizzy. The rocks and the sand and the water start merging into one indistinguishable mass, and before he can take a step back, Hux is stumbling forwards -

He is suddenly aware of a dull, painful tug where the straps of his bag cut into his shoulders as he’s pulled back. His tailbone hurts when he bumps to the ground.

“What is _wrong_ with you?”, he hears Ren yell.

Hux is dragged away from the edge.

“What _is it,_ Hux?”

Hux tries his best to fight passing out.

“I don’t know, I don’t. I’m tired.”

“Look at me.”

Ren is kneeling down in front of him, is grabbing his jaw again, forcing Hux’s eyes to meet his. Hux lets him. He remembers this look, full of accusation and skepticism, and this other thing. This thing that might be concern, or a misinterpretation on Hux’s part. His spinning head weighs tons, so he stops straining his neck and lets Ren hold his face up for him.

“It’s nothing, stop - Stop pestering me. I’ll get up, I’m fine.”

“Alright. Get up then.”

Ren lets go of him and Hux slumps to the side like a marionette cut off from it’s too tight strings.

“That’s it. We’re taking a break. Can you hear me? Hux?”

“Yes. I haven’t eaten, is all.”

Not a lie, technically. Most likely part of the problem. Still, Ren doesn’t seem to believe him.

“Tell me what it is, right now. You look sick.”

“I told you.”

“Is it because of the plants? The crop? I -”

“No.”

“Did you have another nightmare?”

Hux rolls to his side, shrugs out of his rucksack, props up on his elbows, pushes himself up to sit on his heels. He must look like a cretin, like a toddler mastering his first steps. Yet he’s not even capable of feeling ashamed, currently.

“Yes. I dreamt.”

It’s easier than having to explain the whole experience. Ren looks nowhere near convinced, but lets it go anyway.

“Fine. Lie to me, if you like. But never give me another speech about keeping too many secrets.”

Hux knows he’s right - yet it’s a completely different thing. Ren can read Hux’s mind whenever he pleases, probably has access to most of Hux’s thoughts. It’s disgusting, really. Hux can’t bear the attention he is receiving from Ren right now.

“Stop it, Ren.”

“Stop what?”

“Looking like that. It’s revolting.”

“We should find a way down to the water. Do you think you can manage?”

“What makes you think I can’t?”

Ren only raises his brows. Hux swears the corners of Ren’s mouth are lifting slightly. _Imbecile._

_"Quit it.”_

“Alright. Good luck getting up.”

Ren is on his feet in less than a second. And, naturally, he waits for Hux to prove that his talk about being fine wasn’t just empty words. Which, of course, it was.

“You can go ahead, I’ll catch up in just a-”

Hux is interrupted by a strange sensation searing through him. He’s lifted up, but no one is touching him - it’s like invisible hands are grabbing his waist and lending his body the energy it doesn’t have to get him in an upright, standing position. He gasps out of surprise, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened to him. At realizing what it might have been, he shoots Ren a venomous glare, but the idiot is just casually gathering his things while giving Hux a smug look. Heat is rising to his cheeks - however, Hux is actually quite relieved to be feeling something again, even if it’s humiliation.

“Was that you?”, Hux snarls indignantly.

“I’m just speeding things up a bit”, Ren says, hefting his bag.

“You will never do this again.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to give me orders.”

“Well you’re in no position to maltreat me.”

 _"Maltreat_ _you?_ Is that your way of saying -”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Ren freezes for a moment, mouth already hanging open to release whatever heated reply he had planned. Hux hopes he won’t have to elaborate.

“What for?”

Hux should have known. He takes a deep breath, trying to prevent his anger from dominating over his shame.

“For not abandoning me to my fate. Twice.”

Ren just stares, swallows. He looks like he didn’t actually expect Hux to put this into words, least of all immediately and upon request. It takes a while for Ren to snap out of his reverie.

“Alright, just. Try to do something about that death wish you seem to be having lately”, Ren says after visibly forcing himself to look less bewildered.

Hux only sneers when Ren heads off without giving him the chance to comment.

His bag feels unnaturally light when he puts it back on and fits the shoulder straps, and after he starts following Ren he checks two more times whether it’s still there or whether there’s a hole in its bottom. He realizes soon enough that it is, of course, Ren’s doing, but Hux doesn’t let his pride talk him into complaining this time.


	6. Chapter 6

Walking along the edge of a cliff with a stormy sea to look at is an activity that might be considered relaxing by some people. Hux wonders if they’re even bothered by things like the tedious howl of the wind, or the stinging, salty taste on their lips - he certainly is.

He wouldn’t describe his negative attitude towards the ocean as _fear,_ per se, just a slight reluctance, if anything. After all, he can’t know whether it’s really just regular water waiting for them or whether they’re currently walking right into a trap.

A trap however would require someone to set it, and this planet is most definitely as deserted as it can get. Hux crossly side-eyes the sea to his right, as though that would make it shrink with respect the way it would intimidate new crew members on the bridge aboard the Finalizer.

After a while of laborious trudging, Hux finally feels his stride becoming quicker and more effortless as the cliff seems to be flattening and leading them downhill. It brightens Hux’s mood immensely - the water is coming within reach, and with it the promising prospect of taking a much needed bath.

This is what he should be concentrating on, not this ridiculous anguish that this nonsensical dream is causing him.

Ren is walking ahead of Hux and doesn’t turn around to check on him. Which is fortunate, because the last thing Hux wants now is for Ren to gawk at him in his already miserable state.

The sun is still absent, hidden away by a grey curtain. Hux is still wearing his two heavy jackets, hasn’t even had time to think about taking them off up until now. The air is mild. He shudders when he feels the first stray raindrops hit his face.

Hux looks up from the ground in front of him and squints as his vision is blurred by the rain. Ren has stopped in his tracks. Following his gaze, Hux soon makes out the reason: They’re approaching a passage made of massive stones higher than either of them. The way splits there - they could either go right, through the passage and further along the shore, or they could go left, towards the mainland. It wouldn’t take much longer for them to be level with the sea if they decided to take the passage, so Hux’s decision is already made.

“What’s the matter, Ren? Let’s go.”

“I’m not sure which option to take. I should meditate over it.”

“Absolutely not”, Hux says irritably.

Ren turns his head to look at Hux, who is coming to a stop next to him.

“I can’t guarantee anything, then”, Ren replies, looking more unsure than annoyed, “I haven’t seen what comes next, yet.”

“I need water, right now. We’re taking the passage.”

Although Ren’s hesitation unsettles Hux, he has to insist. His rehabilitation after the cropgold incident has left him with barely a gulp of water in his bottle and his throat is still parched. In fact, it’s in every respect against Hux’s calculating nature to make rushed decisions, especially in an environment like this, yet the thought of taking the left path causes several defensive walls in his brain to shoot up. One of them is most definitely the will to survive.

Hux turns his head to find Ren giving him a once-over. He figures he must look piteous, if Ren’s look of mild irritation is anything to go by.

“Fine. The passage it is”, Ren says, louder than usual, trying to drown out the howling wind.

The near calm they encounter at entering the passage gives Hux the kind of small relief he didn’t know he needed. It’s narrower than he would have estimated from the outside and he’s somewhat glad that he can still see the sky above them - it feels warmer between the wet rocks too, but that might just be the absence of the storm. It smells distinctly of seaweed.

Hux’s jackets feel too stifling and he looks forward to taking them off. In front of him, Ren has covered his shoulders with a piece of black cloth, probably a former part of his costume. One end of it looks singed.

Hux involuntarily thinks about what it would be like to set Kylo Ren on fire. Whether it would be as satisfying in practice as it is in theory. Maybe Ren wouldn’t mind, maybe he’d be too caught up in acting out his immediate revenge to do anything about it. The image is interesting, in an absolutely disturbing way.

It must be a useful thing, having Ren as your protector. Your personal shield. Put aside the fact that having to rely on someone keeping you safe is utterly disgraceful, it sure would be a pleasant thing, having someone like that under your command. Hux then wonders whether Ren has anything or anybody to protect but himself, and almost laughs at the obviousness of the answer to that question.

Except for Snoke, Ren has nobody. Hux can tell, because he knows what _having nobody_ looks like. It’s not always easy to determine, but with Ren it is. It’s loud and clear when he talks, apparent in each of his movements. Maybe it hasn't always been like that for Ren, maybe he didn't grow up having nobody. Or he did, like Hux.

The passageway winds itself in front of them, until there is finally the junction to the right they’ve been waiting for. Hux’s steps get swifter, his spirits lighter. There’s bright daylight at the end when he follows Ren around the corner, the ground gradually changing from solid rock to velvety sand.

Hux sighs when they emerge from between the stony walls, the wind resumes whistling in his ears and carries away his tiny sound of content.

A beach extends before him, and it’s not the one from his dream. In fact, it’s a bay - it's encircled by the high walls of the cliff, the water foaming and roughly breaking at the shore.

After they’ve settled down beneath the biggest ledge they can find to shelter themselves and their belongings from the rain, Hux hastily drops his bag, his jacket, the rest of his clothes. He stops at the fly of his trousers to check on Ren, but Ren is occupied with rummaging around in his bag, so he goes on.

It’s short lived, but _good._ The cropgold seeds come off easily, the water freeing him of this unnecessary weight, which is relieving despite Hux's awareness that the burden he carried was more of metaphorical sort. His headache ceases - Hux had apparently gotten so used to it that its absence comes as a positive surprise. Ruffling his hair underwater must be the greatest sensation he’s ever experienced.

Hux still is nauseous after leaving the water - he figures he might need to get over himself and try to eat something. The wind is freezingly cold and Hux shivers like a leaf while returning to his clothes. He wraps his arms around himself and dares shooting a glance in Ren’s direction.

He’s crouching in the shadow of the ledge, busying himself with inspecting his lightsaber, looking very stern and concentrated while doing so, and Hux is thankful to be able to put on his clothes in peace and sit down between his bag and Ren afterwards.

To Hux's bewilderment, he then hears the rustling of fabric and watches a black undershirt as well as black trousers fall to the ground next to him. Hux quickly starts looking for the food he promised himself to try, perplexed by the sudden nervousness that’s tugging at his gut.

Ren is going for a swim, so what. Hux could not care less. The water is safe, Hux just went in there, too. If there was a wave, he’d be able to see it from where he sits.

His eyes follow Ren as he makes his way to the waterside and avoid him when he returns.

Huddled up and hair dripping wet, they sit in silence, hit by spray rain whenever a wind gust carries it down below the sides where the ledge doesn’t cover them. At least, the cold is yet to come and Hux’s clothes feel clean and warm. Nibbling on a piece of bread turns out to be soothing his irritated stomach. He feels strangely at ease - even Ren’s presence is reassuring instead of unsettling, for a change.

“Hux”, Ren suddenly starts, like he sensed himself popping up in Hux’s mind, “I need to know what you dreamed about.”

And Hux thought he might be able to get some rest and recover. No, there’s no such thing as _rest_ with Ren.

“And what could you possibly _gain_ from knowing that?”

“I’ve been dreaming, too.”

At that, Hux really, properly looks at Ren for the first time today.

His eyes are sunken in and his skin is drained of the bit of healthy colour that had been left to begin with. It’s even more apparent now, with his hair out of the way, that Ren radiates an exhaustion so intense that Hux is rather shocked to not have noticed it before.

“But, they weren’t common dreams. I - kept getting interrupted by them, in the middle of meditation. And at night, a few times. I want to make sense of it.”

Hux tries to figure out whether Ren is playing a trick on him. There might be another motivation to this question, a different answer he hopes to find than the one he claims to need, and this is just a tactic to get Hux to divulge. Maybe he’s spied on Hux’s thoughts and saw what he dreamt about and is now trying to win his trust by pretending they have something in common.

“Do you have a theory, Ren? About what's going on?”

“Yes. This is why you have to tell me. I want it confirmed. Or be proven wrong.”

Hux considers how much he can actually reveal without making it seem like Ren asking troubles him much.

“It felt the same, for me. Not like any other dream or nightmare I’ve had. I saw things from my past, but also things it’s technically impossible for me to have any insight on, all of them equally horrifying. I was reminded of things I believed to have forgotten about.”

It’s obvious that it’s what Ren wanted to hear, his eyes growing bigger with each of Hux’s words.

“Yes”, he simply says, and his wet, black hair falls into his face when he turns it to look at the ocean.

“Is that the answer you were expecting?”

A bird cries somewhere above them.

“I didn’t expect an answer.”

Hux isn’t sure whether to trust the honesty he believes to be hearing in Ren’s statement. The thought isn’t far-fetched, Hux actually considered denying him an answer, but still - stated so plainly, it quickens Hux’s pulse. Ren’s tone indicates that he would not have ripped an answer out of Hux by force had he decided not to talk. Hux thinks of all the subordinates Ren frightened into answering, and of all the prisoners Ren _tortured_ into answering. He thinks of all the times Ren just took the answer he needed right out of his opponent's head. Hux would not have anticipated Ren to be showing this kind of subtle respect towards him, given the hatred he feels for him.

“How does the Supreme Leader explain it?”, Hux asks, genuinely interested.

Ren keeps staring at the water, takes a break before he speaks.

“I haven’t felt Snoke’s presence since our last joint audience”, he mutters.

“You can’t expect me to believe this. You’re his apprentice, it’s in his interest for you to -”

 _“I know_ that it sounds absurd, Hux. But I tried. I tried, and he didn’t respond. He is actively denying me his guidance.”

“Well, he might need a break from keeping watch over you.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it - he might be making plans for the re-establishment of the First Order, in our absence. He might be busy with making up for our failure, taking care of the destruction and piecing together the remnants.”

Ren seems to think about that, then shakes his head. He looks angry, confused.

“This is unlike him.”

He pulls the jacket next to him into his lap and opens his bag to fetch a pack of insta-mash and his water bottle.

So Ren _is_ subsisting on conventional food, in a conventional way.

“It’s possible he wants you to prove that you can do without him.”

Hux doesn’t know why he is offering this - advice, or his opinion, in general. Ren doesn’t seem to know either, which Hux gathers from the bewildered stare directed at him.

“I have thought of that”, Ren says, stirring his mash, “and it’s not unlikely. Still, he has never withdrawn completely before, the way he is doing right now.”

Ren must know that he’s making himself vulnerable to Hux’s scorn. He must be aware that to Hux, this could be a massive invitation to ridicule him. So, why is he doing this?

Hux figures Ren must have been carrying this around with him for days, with no one to ask for advice. Surely, he’s not used to that, having to look after himself without this constant voice of guidance in his head. And, in addition, he’s having these abominable dreams. He might feel _lost_ without Snoke telling him how well he’s doing. Like a child being used to the burning light on the bedside table, but now their parents decided it’s time to switch it off. Hux sneers.

“I wasn’t aware you were having trouble sleeping as well.”

Swallowing the last bit of his mash, Ren shrugs and grabs his bottle.

“You weren’t exactly in an ideal condition to analyze my sleeping patterns.”

“But you analyzed mine.”

Hux feels Ren’s eyes on him while he busies himself staring at the flat line of the grey horizon.

“I didn’t need to analyze anything. Coincidentally, you screamed loud enough to leave no room for misinterpretation.”

It’s hard trying not to check what kind of expression Ren is wearing - just by his tone of voice, he sounds amused. Hux has neither time nor energy for constant embarrassment.

“You said you had a theory. I told you what I was dreaming about. I’m all ears.”

Ren is silent for a few seconds and Hux knows that whatever follows now will be either a lie or an abridged version of the truth.

“It might be the planet. As in - maybe a substance in the air, or the ground, like a defense mechanism. I’m not yet sure what it is that I’ll be retrieving for Snoke from the temple, but it might be guarded. By this planet.”

“So you’re saying - what? That this planet is a living thing, with a consciousness? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“It’s a suggestion.”

“It’s likelier we are suffering from some sort of aftereffect. This job is both physically and mentally demanding, be it hallucinogenic plants or carnivorous balls of light or having to -”

Hux wishes Ren would stop staring and has to hold back an exasperated groan.

“- cooperate.”

“We’ve had to cooperate for years now. It’s never felt like being diseased.”

“It hasn’t, for you? How fortunate.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don’t. Was the forced work relationship we’ve had for the past years really your idea of _cooperation?_ You should have told me.”

“That wouldn’t have changed a thing about your narrow-minded and following-the-book way of doing things.”

“You might have been better off addressing topics like that objectively and like the capable leader Snoke seems to think you to be instead of destroying a console each time people preferred the _narrow-minded_ way over yours.”

“You deserved it.”

“What?”

“You deserved me destroying your ship.”

“So you did it to infuriate me? To get my _attention?”_

“That’s not what I said.”

“Yes, it is. And it’s not surprising. It supports my assumption that Snoke lied about your age and you’re merely a child in a grown man’s body.”

Ren averts his face, but Hux already saw it turning a deep crimson.

“What, Ren? Are you about to have your next fit?”

“We should set out. Not waste time with this”, Ren says through gritted teeth.

“I see you’re adapting to my mindset. Very impressive.”

Hux gets to his feet, pulse thrumming with the unbidden rush of adrenaline that usually comes with arguing with Ren. This was by no means a necessary confrontation, this was solely for Hux’s twisted idea of keeping up some kind of routine, and he knows it. But the strength he gathered from bathing and eating seems to be spurring him on, making him think that investing it in making Ren’s life harder is a good idea.

The rain has receded to a very faint drizzle as they pack their things and return to the gap in the stone wall, entering the passage. Their way is soon taking them uphill again and after climbing a few rocks, Hux feels unsteadiness return to his legs. Each time he sets his foot down onto the next stone, he has trouble keeping it from slipping on the wet surface. After a while, his hands are sore from gripping whatever rock he can find for a hold, some of them sharp enough to hurt. His gloves are somewhere buried deep inside of his bag, but the fact alone that Ren can manage without gloves convinces Hux that he can do without them as well. His blaster dangles at the right side of his bag, occasionally colliding with his hip, probably leaving a bruise or two. Even though Ren is still Force-reducing the weight of Hux’s bag - which Hux had not expected considering they were close to jumping at each other’s throats just minutes ago - it feels like too much to carry in combination with the effort of climbing and trying not to slip and fall.

Ren too seems to have difficulties concentrating, grabbing a loose stone once and missing a step twice, each time coming very close to tumbling backwards which would have sent them both back into the depths of the passageway. Yet Hux can’t really bring himself to comment on it, knowing that Ren is not deliberately trying to get on his nerves.

As soon as they’ve scrambled up the last bit, they find dry ground, spiky, barren grass and groups of huge boulders that outdo either of them in size and make it impossible to see what lies behind.

Panting heavily, Hux puts down his rucksack and silently decides for the both of them to take another short break, just to catch his breath and regain control over his legs. Ren doesn’t look too pleased, but goes with it and waits. Hux uselessly tries to keep his hair out of his face, wind gusts continuously swiping it back, and looks to his right, at the ocean. There’s still no wave, which leaves him wondering why this small part of him can’t stop feeling on edge.

That is why he knows something is wrong before he even sees the panthac.

He’s checking on Ren to see what he’s doing when he notices it - the small anomaly in the group of stones behind Ren, the little part that doesn’t fit into the silhouette. The tiny bit of swaying fur in a scenario where nothing should be moving.

Hux has never seen a Mantessan panthac in the wild, and anyone who values their life would be glad to say the same. Averagely two metres long, wolf-like creatures with no natural predators, extremely aggressive and almost impossible to catch, even with the right equipment. He’d learned about them in history lessons at the Academy, when the Empire was discussed. They had used the panthac as the base template for creating a genetically modified version, which was used for guarding bases and secret establishments.

And now, Hux can see one right behind Ren and has next to nothing to defend himself.

“Ren”, he says as calmly as he can manage, his heart rate threatening to make his chest burst, “Get your lights-”

With a fierce roar, the beast jumps forth from behind the rock and dashes towards them with momentous speed. Its two huge fangs are bared, the long snout revealing a dagger-like tongue. Ren manages to grab his lightsaber, but is not quick enough to activate it. A flash of red, furious eyes is all Hux catches before he watches Ren being violently thrown to the ground from behind, the panthac burying him beneath its massive weight and sending his lightsaber flying through the air.

Hux has never been quicker to grab his blaster. His hand is shaking violently when he unlocks the weapon and aims for his first shot. He misses by inches, goes for the second one, and his third shot hits the beast’s left claw.

It roars in agony and searches for the source of its pain - at seeing that it’s Hux, it quickly loses interest in Ren and growlingly approaches him. Ren lies still, face to the ground, and Hux realizes soon enough that he didn’t pretend to be dead so the panthac would let go of him. He seems to have hit his head and lost consciousness.

Hux is sure that this is the end of this mission, at least for him. He does consider himself a decent fighter, and usually an excellent shooter as well, but he stands no chance against this animal, especially not on his own.

Another two shots fired directly at the furry thorax, with no effect except increased fury and aggressiveness. Hux scrambles backwards, disappearing behind a nearby boulder. It will only gain him a few seconds, but he needs a plan. A tactic, anything. He cannot give up without a fight. He can’t rely on getting Ren to wake up in time. He can’t use his blaster, it’s ineffective. He certainly can’t _wrestle_ the beast. Or, he might be able to kill it with his blaster, if he hits the right spot. Which he doesn’t know. He can’t rely on luck, either, there’s no time. He can’t-

His gaze shifts to his left, to the ground.

The black, scratched handle of Ren’s lightsaber lies in between two rocks. Hux knows that it’s a mad, suicidal idea, but waiting for the panthac to devour him is even madder and definitely more suicidal.

So he takes one last look at his blaster and throws it to his right, as far as he can.

Immediately, he hears another low-pitched roar and the clicking of too long claws on the stony ground, instinctively running to attack the blaster.

This is the head start Hux needed to come forth, run as fast as he can to get the lightsaber and ignite it.

 _Calm down,_ he instructs himself in his head, _this is like sparring. You did this a lot, back in combat training. This is just another staff._

He hopes that it won’t need any kind of verification process to make it work, thinking of how Ren wouldn’t be able to use Hux’s blaster due to it being coded to his fingerprint - but at the firm press of his hand, the furiously red ends of the saber flicker to life, the red glow intimidating even though Hux is the one controlling it. He musters the two shorter plasma blades and tries to swing it a few times, the low hum the movement causes vibrating in his ears.

_This is nothing like a staff. This won’t work._

There’s not much time for Hux to test the weapon. The panthac didn’t take long to realize its mistake and has already left the blaster, resuming to target Hux.

It’s not being cautious, this time. Speeding in Hux’s direction in quick jumps, it has its mouth wide open, saliva splattering out of it.

Right before the panthac is about to tackle Hux, he swiftly turns, dodging it and thus getting a chance to take a swing at it from the side. He manages to cut off some of its mane and leave a burning wound right above its ribcage. It gives a yelp, hisses, struggles to come to a halt after its sprint.

Hux holds the lightsaber out in front of him with both his hands at waist height, like he’s seen Ren do before. No weapon he has ever wielded feels even remotely close to this, he can’t think of anything to compare it to - he is sure that he won’t be able to properly defend himself with it for more than two further attacks.

The panthac looks up at Hux, the lust to kill sparking up in its eyes, and without another sound it jumps at him.

Hux reflexively uses the opportunity of the short moment of upright posture to slash at the exposure of belly, but the movement is too quick and unstable to hit its target. The panthac lashes out and tears open Hux’s left upper leg, but retreats at coming too close to the saber. The injury and the strike cause Hux to lose concentration and one of the short ends of the saber burns into the skin on his wrist.

He yells at the sudden shock of pain and his tight grip on the lightsaber loosens, resulting in the red flames dying out at once.  

Panting with dread, Hux tries to turn it on again, but it doesn’t work, as hard as he tries.

The panthac is pushing him down before he can attempt to run. Hux's head hits the ground, pressed tightly between warm, rotten smelling fur and cold, wet stone. His wrist and leg feel like they’re on fire. He can’t see anything, can only feel the body on top of him shiver with a feral growl before enormous, piercing claws sink into his chest. Hux screams in anguish, trying with all his might to push the beast off of him, unsuccessfully.

Hux doesn’t know whether his hand clutches at the lightsaber intentionally, from the pressure of the heavy body on top of him or from the unbearable pain, and it’s irrelevant. All that matters is that suddenly, Hux hears a frizzling sound, a bloodcurdling, animalic cry, and then, silence.

The panthac goes limp, all of its weight knocking the last bit of air out of Hux’s lungs. A crack, more pain - an ache that consumes all of Hux’s body. Unable to inhale, he can’t make a sound, can’t see.

He has to move it off of him. That’s what he has to do even if it’s the last thing he does. So Hux tries pushing at it, tries again when he fails, and again, again, until he feels it sluggishly roll to the side and make way for air to flood his lungs after a frantic intake of breath.

The sky above him is too bright, and the clouds are swimming. Hux groans, sitting up. It smells of burnt fur.

He doesn’t notice the blood at first. Only when it’s seeping through his shirt and running all the way down his front does he start to get dizzy. The view of his tattered leg makes him lie back down, not sure he can keep himself from vomiting.

Faintly, from what must be miles away, he can hear Ren scream something that sounds distinctly like his name. No, correction: Ren cannot possibly be miles away, his face is in sight, very close to Hux’s own, all of a sudden. One, big blur, and close. Hux can’t believe that he’s fine with it. That he’s fine with Ren’s face being the last thing he sees.

He wonders if the throbbing pain in his chest is really caused by the massive wound the claws left there or whether it’s actually Ren’s hand clutching the collar of his shirt.

That is the moment he lets go of the lightsaber and blacks out.


	7. Chapter 7

Waking up has rarely ever been more painful.

It’s not only Hux’s eyes that hurt as he opens them. It’s also the rest of his head, and basically every single bone from his neck downwards. A faint whimper escapes him when he tries to move his hand, attempting to bring it to his chest. He manages to curl his fingers.

Disorientedly, he tries to analyze his factual situation.

He is lying on his back. Above him, there’s the smooth inside of the tent’s roof, which is trembling slightly. The trembling is caused by wind. It’s raining heavily too, indicated by the loud pattering resounding from the walls. It must be dark outside, a lamp is lit. Hux feels dry and warm, apart from the fact that he’s aching all over. He’s aching because a panthac attacked him. Them.

_Ren._

Turning his head is sending waves of pain through his neck and he groans.

Ren is inside of the tent as well, sitting right next to Hux, watching him. His face is neutral, vacant.

Hux gives moving his hand another try - this time, it finds its way to his chest, but when he brushes against unfamiliar material, he looks down.

His torso is wrapped in regeneration bandages, as are his wrist and his leg.

“Where is it?”, Hux asks, voice raspy and embarrassingly weak, “The panthac?”

“Right outside”, Ren replies, “It’s dead.”

“Good.”

Hux closes his eyes again, finding that keeping them open is extremely straining. He might just sleep a little longer, or get back to whatever state of unconscious he was in before.

“You killed it”, Ren says, spoiling Hux’s plan of getting back to sleep.

“Yes. Apparently.”

“You used my lightsaber.”

“What are you driving at, Ren? You can keep pestering me with obvious statements, or you could just make your point right away.”

Just as Hux expected, Ren does not make his point right away but instead keeps his eyes fixed on Hux’s bandaged chest in silence.

Hux would roll his eyes if moving them were less painful.

“Are you implying I shouldn’t have used it?”

Not knowing what to do with the look Ren is giving him, Hux is about to get defensive - then, without hesitation, Ren reaches out and presses the back of his hand against Hux’s forehead.

“What do you _think_ you’re doing?”

“The fever is almost gone”, is all Ren has to say before putting his hand back into his lap.

“You’re not my mother. I can handle this myself”, Hux snaps at him, regretting it immediately.

Obviously, Ren has taken care of Hux’s injuries, has seen to each of his wounds and made sure he made it through massive blood-loss and a fever while Hux was far from being able to _handle it himself._

“How long have I been out?”

“Four hours, might have been five.”

“How bad is my condition?”

“Well, your - leg will cause the most trouble, from what I can tell the wound is so deep it’ll take weeks to heal properly. Your kneecap was dislocated, but. I fixed it. It might hurt, still. Your chest looks - it doesn’t look like you’ll get out of this scarfree. The wrist. A lightsaber burn, will leave a scar but it did not cut very deep. It’s painful nonetheless, considering your wrist is under constant strain.”

“How long will it take until I can get up?”

“We still have bacta reserves, so if the bandages are periodically changed and you-”

 _“How long,_ Ren?”

The air in the tent is thick, and for a moment, the only audible sound is the relentless rain hitting tightly stretched durafiber.

“We’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Unless I can find another solution in the meantime, there’s not much you can do but - wait.”

 _Wait._ Perfect. Ren is deliberately not giving Hux an exact time, which can only mean it will take _long._

And Ren doesn’t even seem too fazed about it.

Hux tries to lift his head and is punished immediately by a burning ache that runs from his neck all the way down his spine. He sighs when he lets it drop back onto his soft pillow. Except it can’t be a pillow, since he didn’t bring one. It must be a jacket or something similar Ren used in order to create a support for Hux’s damaged neck.

“We can’t wait until tomorrow, Ren. We can’t afford that kind of delay.”

“But we’ll have to. Be reasonable.”

“You don’t understand. This is- I- Just, why are you looking at me like that? Would you mind staring at something else?”

Hux is reminded of Ren’s expression in the cropgold field and suppresses a shudder. Ren actually does start focussing on his own hands then, shaking his head just slightly as he speaks.

“You slaughtered a Mantessan panthac. On your own, with a weapon no one else has used before, but me.”

“And?”, Hux responds, unsure about what else he could say to that and what Ren is trying to get at.

“I didn’t take you for the fighting type is all.”

Huffing offendedly, Hux turns his head away from Ren, knowing that he’s better off looking at the dull wall than Ren’s infuriating face.

He wonders if Ren has any idea about what it means to successfully complete your training at Brendol Hux’s Academy. There is no such thing as _not being the fighting type,_ you either fight or you’re out. It’s true that Hux prefers to let others do the dirty work for him, but it’s taken him much time, patience, and ruthlessness to get to the point of having people obey to his command. Before he gave orders to blackmail, torture and kill, he himself blackmailed, tortured and killed when it was required of him.

“Well. You got yourself knocked out, somebody had to do it”, Hux says, trying to make the statement sound nonchalant instead of irritated.

It’s strangely quiet suddenly.

“I didn’t see it coming”, Ren mutters, so faintly that if Hux hadn’t been waiting for an answer, he might have missed it.

It takes Hux a moment to realize what that means.

“Are you saying”, he begins flatly, really trying his best not to get angry, “that you weren’t able to sense it? Are you saying that when you told me you didn’t sense any life on this planet, there’s a chance that that assumption was inaccurate?”

“I can’t be sure. It has not happened since my earliest training sessions-”

“So your _great_ magic is what? Corrupted? Are your _visions_ and _meditation_ just as useless, then?”

“We wouldn’t even have come this far, Hux, had I not used my _corrupted magic_ to drag you along.”

“Well _now,_ as it is, there’s no need to drag me anywhere because a panthac literally tore me to pieces and left me incapable of even properly lifting my _hand,_ while you were of _no_ help at all!”

Hux finds that yelling helps ease that sudden, irrational anger at Ren - he knows that this fault in Ren’s abilities is a problem that needs to be discussed in earnest, one that won’t be solved by shifting the blame onto each other.

He is mostly furious about the general situation. He feels like a burden now more than ever, feels like they might be stuck on this horrible planet forever and on top of it all, every part of his body he can still feel is aching. Hux snaps out of his self-pity session when he hears Ren swallow, his breaths coming noticeably quicker and more irregularly.

“I-”, Ren starts, the crack in his voice giving away that he’s upset, “I know that it shouldn’t have happened, and I can’t explain how it could.”

And after Hux says nothing, Ren adds a rushed “I’m sorry.”

This should be satisfying. Hux should feel proud about making Ren admit his mistake and about making him back down, especially since Ren has always had massive problems with taking responsibility for his errors.

“Actually”, Hux says, realizing that he doesn’t feel proud in the slightest, “I am aware that I could be lying in the snow right now, surrounded by huge lightbulbs sucking the life out of me. However, since you decided to intervene, I am here, and alive. So, yes, it should not have happened, but I trust that you are not to blame. I believe it would have been in your interest to recognize the beast in time.”

“It was my fault”, Ren replies immediately. His muffled voice suggests that he has faced away from Hux.

It seems to be really getting to him, this faux pas. Hux would not know what advice to give to someone like Ren, concerning a topic he is openly clueless about.

“You’re exhausted. If you’re even nearly as exhausted as I am, it’s more than plausible that mistakes are being made, from my perspective”, Hux offers despite his lack of understanding.

“Except that _my_ mistake almost got you killed, too.”

“About that”, Hux says, the words coming out unsteadily under the effort of turning to look at Ren again, “I was under the assumption that if I were to drop dead on the spot, there wouldn’t be a single person in this universe who would care less than you would. Back on the Finalizer, I felt that there were times when you were close to finishing me off yourself.”

Ren huffs a dry laugh.

“I am being serious, Ren.”

Hux still isn’t so much as glanced at.

“I told you, it’s orders. The Supreme Leader explicitly instructed me to, uh, _do what it takes to make sure the General’s life is at no point at stake._ I have failed him, in that sense, thrice already.”

This bidding of Snoke, if it really was pronounced in this form, sounds drastic to Hux. Urgent. He’s ashamed that Snoke had to insist on Ren making sure foolish, clumsy General Hux doesn’t get into trouble.

That, at least, is one way to put it. Maybe Hux actually _is_ an important part of this mission - maybe more important than he assumed. Maybe there are details Snoke kept secret for the sake of neither of them starting to panic.

Then again, is there a reason for Hux to panic? More than he is panicking already?

“Apart from that”, Ren continues, “While you were just _guessing_ I wanted to end you, I was actually _hearing_ most of your mental death threats.”

“So you were spying on those. I always hoped you’d hear them.”

“I did. They betrayed you. Otherwise I _might_ not have detected that deep loathing you feel towards me.”

Hux hopes Ren doesn’t turn around to see that his remark made Hux involuntarily burst into an amused smile.

The wind outside is becoming so strong that Hux is not sure how the tent is still fixed to the ground.

He tentatively moves both his ankles, just to find them both intact. The left one causes a sickening pain to sear through his upper leg. Breathing is hard and painful, like someone placed a burning hot stone upon his chest. The resulting lack of oxygen makes Hux tired.

“You should rest”, Ren says. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I could use some water, though.”

In the next minutes, maybe even hours, Hux drifts off to a doze, just to be woken by stinging or biting or burning pain whenever he manages to fall asleep for a few seconds. It doesn’t give him the rest he needs, however it does grant him a few moments free of pain.

By the time he is fully awake again, he’s sweating and feeling much too hot. There are no blankets or heavy clothes he could remove, so he just shifts as far as his injuries permit and takes a few deep breaths and gulps from his bottle. He can’t tell how long his trance-like state between sleep and consciousness persisted, and whether it’s still dark outside or it’s just a particularly cloudy morning. All he knows is that it’s still raining and that Ren is lying next to him, chest rising and falling wildly and head thrown back.

Wait -

Hux turns fully, ignoring the dizziness it causes him, to find Ren clutching the sheets, tightly, hyperventilating, eyes bloodshot and rolling back into his head. He’s mumbling something, incoherent nonsense, features contorted.

“Ren”, Hux tries, but doesn’t get an answer.

“Ren!”  

Hux starts getting nervous when he realizes that words don’t seem to reach Ren, isn’t sure suddenly whether waking Ren is even a good idea.

 _It is close to delirious to just rip me out of it,_ is what Hux was told last time he interrupted Ren during one of those dubious exercises, and Hux is certainly not someone who has to be told things twice.

On the other hand, Ren doesn’t seem like he has control over any of this, and anyway, Hux has _seen_ Ren meditate and it didn’t look anything like a seizure.

Hux doesn’t consciously make the decision to reach out and grab Ren by the shoulder, it more or less just happens instinctively.

Again, it turns out to be the wrong choice as Hux feels a strange surge the moment his hand connects with Ren’s warm skin.

Hux opens his eyes - doesn’t remember closing them, actually - and finds himself standing in an empty kitchen.

An average kitchen, of average size, slightly too messy for Hux’s liking. There are dirty dishes on the small table in the corner, the light blue tablecloth is sprinkled with some sort of sauce in some places. Three people recently ate there and didn’t care to clear the table. One of the glasses is still half-filled with blue milk. A potted plant decorates the middle of the table - it looks like it hasn’t been watered in quite a while. The clock on the wall switches to 1800.

Hux picks up a small, brown bag on the counter. There’s a weapon inside, and a considerable amount of credits. A data-pad lies just within his reach, but Hux feels like finding out where he is and why he’s here is more relevant, presently.

The knitted curtains are drawn, even though it appears to be dark outside.

Hux hears voices then, faint, but definitely real - one of them is female, silky and playful, the other male, deep and rich. They talk animatedly, which makes a third voice come to life. It’s a child, and it’s laughing.

Hux makes his way through the kitchen door and walks along a narrow hallway. There are several frames of different sizes on the wall, all of them empty. Some of the wallpaper is missing. Hux passes a few stray boxes on the floor, some of them opened, some of them still closed and stacked. The house has something unfinished and raw about it, like its owners just moved in.

As the voices grow louder, Hux gathers that he’s approaching the living room. He can already see an empty armchair from where he stands, and a cupboard filled with holorecords.

“I’m not ticklish. I’m not”, the child practically wheezes, out of breath from laughing.

“Alright, kid. Then sure you won’t mind me doing _this",_ the man says, and the hysterical laughter resumes.

The woman, in turn, sighs. “Haven’t you two had enough? Han, let him watch the movie. You know he has his big day tomorrow, it’s the last one he’ll see in a while.”

The laughter ebbs away and is replaced by silence.

“Well, Ben”, the man mutters in reply, “looks like your mom is no fun today. Think we can change that?”

There’s rustling and steps, and then, a high pitched scream.

 _“What_ are you doing- Han- Stop! Don’t you dare-!”, the woman yells before breaking into an uncontrolled fit of laughter.

The child resumes giggling too, and Hux is too curious to keep hiding behind the half closed door.

He makes sense of the situation rather quickly, and actually seeing the three people on the huge couch completes the picture.

The man, none other than a younger version of Han Solo, is grabbing the woman Hux recognizes as Leia Organa by the waist, making her shriek and kick effortlessly against his chest in an attempt to make him stop tickling her.

After Solo gives her a short, playful kiss and lets go of her, she sticks out her tongue and flattens the creases on her dress. It looks too formal to be worn at home while watching holorecords on the couch.

It’s then that Solo sits back down on the right side of the couch, and the child is revealed. A boy, dark, brown hair matching dark, brown eyes, is staring at the screen in front of him while his smile fades and his expression becomes solemn. Hux has trouble estimating his age - just going by his height, his thin limbs and his very young face, he could be seven or eight, but his eyes look worn and experienced in a way a child’s eyes usually don’t. He doesn’t seem to sleep much and doesn’t seem to go outside too often, either.

The moles on his pale face and the pouty mouth tell Hux that this must be Ben Solo, before he knew that one day he’d be strolling the bridges of Hux’s ship, destroying his equipment and terrorizing his staff.

Hux is still waiting in the doorframe, even though he knows that if the family actually knew about his presence, they would have made it known already. Organa has looked in his direction twice now, staring right through Hux each time.

“What is it now, kid? Huh? Wait. Don’t tell me. It’s the movie, right? It’s sh-”

“Watch your language, Han.”

“You know, you _could_ try to brighten up a little. I came here, all the way, just for you”, Solo ignores her, inching closer to the distant looking boy.

“It’s the least you could do”, Organa says, obviously trying to not make it sound like an accusation, “after three weeks. You said you’d be back in a few days. And Ben’s training starts tomorrow, you knew that.”

“Let’s- alright. Let’s talk about that another time. Want me to show you what I brought you from Corellia? Ben?”

“Yeah”, Ben replies absentmindedly, flashing Solo a forced smile.

Han Solo gets up, approaches Hux, walks past him without regarding him.

“You know what he’s like”, Organa says, stroking Ben’s hair, “but, I have a feeling that you’ll like what he brought this time. He learns too, you know.”

That makes Ben smile a little, but still he doesn’t quit staring at the screen with hollow eyes.

“I’m going to miss you so much. But you’re going to do great, I know it. Look at me.”

There are tears in his eyes when Ben does force himself to look at her and Hux isn’t sure if he wants to see any of this. However, as he has no idea how to leave, he’ll have to.

“Mom, what if. What if I-”, he starts, now looking angry, “There’s something I-”

“Alright there, kid, close your eyes!”

Han Solo bursts into the room, holding out a sloppily wrapped package and handing it to Ben, apparently ignorant of the change of atmosphere.

Ben doesn’t close his eyes and unwraps the package right away.

Hux feels like ‘disappointment’ can’t come close to a proper description of what he sees on the boy’s face as he takes out the plain, steel-grey ball from inside the package.

“What… is this?”, Ben asks unbelievingly and looks up at Solo.

“Give it a tight squeeze.”

He does, and immediately the ball unfolds - first, little wings spring out, rudders and speed brakes, then an external tank and rocket boosters pop up seemingly out of nowhere. It rapidly transforms into a miniature rocketship, and a rather accurate and complex one, at that.

Ben’s eyes grow wide. He’s obviously in awe.

“It has some nice special effects”, Solo explains, grinning like he’s the one receiving a gift, “the engines can light up, as well as the control center, and it can shoot. Tiny plastic arrows.”

“How?”, Ben immediately asks.

“Oh, you know. There are buttons you could push. But I thought, as soon as you’ve trained with Luke for a while, you can do all of that with your mind. You can make it light up, shoot, fly at your will. Plus, it looks like a boring ball, right? I know you’re not allowed playthings in training, but a grey, useless ball ain’t exactly a plaything, in my opinion.”

He winks at Ben, but Ben is only staring at the ship. A crooked, excited smile spreads on his face and he lifts up the ship to examine it. When he pulls on one of its wings, it retransforms into the ball.

“Maybe I can do it already”, Ben says, putting the ball down in front of him on the low table. He gives it a hard stare, dramatically extending one hand. His look soon changes from strained to impatient when nothing happens, and Organa laughs lightly.

Hux doesn’t know how he didn’t notice Ren standing in the corner next to him.

He was probably too fixed on the scene playing out in front of him to see that he, too, is staring at the family on the couch. Ren is wearing his mask and his robes, hands curled tightly around the hilt of his lightsaber.

He’s shaking, his whole body trembling with each frantic intake of air through the confinement of his mask. His stance is offensive. He doesn’t seem to be aware of Hux’s presence, or at least he doesn’t acknowledge him, captivated by what is going on in front of him.

Ren then begins to hesitatingly - or simply cautiously - approach the couch and the people seated on it, all the while clutching the black handle of his saber. He comes to a stop right behind the boy, who’s now very determined to try and pull every lever and push every button he can find on the small rocketship. Hux notes that Ren’s hands become less steady with every passing second.

Then, Hux remembers something crucial.

He isn’t supposed to be here - and neither is Ren. This can’t be the place Ren goes for meditation. This doesn’t look like something Ren could emerge from with the feeling of being stronger. Ren can’t possibly _harm_ or _kill_ Ben Solo here, as these people are most likely a projection, a memory of Ren’s.

Hux fully enters the room, but Ren only keeps looking down on the boy’s head, so close that if his hands weren’t trembling so furiously, he could lift them and touch the dark hair in front of him.

Something tells Hux that they can’t linger any longer here, in this house. That they’re meant to be somewhere else. It’s a feeling deep in his gut, strong enough to be convincing.

“Ren, you need to wake up”, Hux hears himself saying, voicing the thought even though he doesn’t entirely know where it came from.

Ren turns his head abruptly, letting his saber drop to the floor with a dull thud.

“Hux?”, he asks breathlessly.

The lightsaber hilt rolls across the wooden floor towards Hux and he stops it with his outstretched foot. Ren looks like a trapped animal, almost cowering and panting heavily.

“Wake up. Now.”

“I can’t. I need to- This is-”

“You will wake up _right now,_ Ren.”

“No. First, I’ll have to-”

Hux walks over to Ren in a few, swift strides. He raises his hand, doesn’t care if this is going to hurt - he can’t stand not being obeyed.

Just as he’s about to strike Ren square across his masked face, his eyes shoot open and he is no longer attacking Ren in the unfamiliar living room.

In fact, he is back inside of the tent lying in a more than uncomfortable position - on his left side, to be precise, facing Ren. However, he soon comes to realize, he’s not only _looking_ at Ren, but rather digging his nails into the softness of his right shoulder.

His hand is shaken off immediately as Ren comes back to consciousness, frantically scrambling to get up.

 _“What were you thinking?”,_ Ren practically shouts, voice breaking. He’s still panting, the skin under his eyes is still a violent shade of red, yet at least he seems to be mentally present.

“What was that?”, Hux silently inquires, unafraid of Ren’s rage.

“You weren’t supposed to see any of this! It’s absolutely _none_ of your business!”

“Did you induce that yourself? Or was it a dream?”

“You spoiled it, Hux! You completely ruined it! I was about to- I would have done it, again! I was about to kill him, but you just _had_ to interrupt like the moron you are! Is it too much to ask of you? To just keep your intruding nose out of my matters?”

Hux wonders when Ren’s features started to blur. The overwhelming heat returns to his head and to the rest of his body.

“When will you realize that your nosiness is an embarrassment? A _disgrace?_ You’re too much of a simpleton to be comprehending any of it. Too weak-minded and incompetent and-”

A panicked, disturbed look replaces Ren’s enraged one when it wanders down to Hux’s chest.

“Oh, sh- Hux”, he says, scrambling closer.

Hux glances down and sees fresh blood soaking his bandages, a dark spot growing bigger at comically low speed.

“Oh”, Hux manages to say, feeling cold sweat on his face after a shiver ripples through his whole body.

“Lie still. I’ll replace them, stay where you are.”

Hux rolls his eyes. _And where do you think I could go_ is at the tip of his tongue, but a stinging rush of pain at Ren removing the old bandages turns it into a groan.

This is degrading, humiliation at its finest. Hux sees it for what it is - a loss of self-control. And not only is he _losing_ the control he is so proud of, he is _handing it over to Kylo Ren._

He suppresses a wail when Ren presses fresh bacta pads onto the reopened wound.

Being dependant on Ren in regards to finding a way to a temple is one thing, but being forced to trust Ren with his well-being just crosses a line.

Hux’s respiration has gone out of control and his heart is slamming by the time Ren is finished tending to the several cuts on his chest. A hand, damp and smelling of copper, is covering Hux’s forehead before he can protest, followed by muffled swearing.

Hux hears rustling, the sound of a zipper being pulled, feels fresh air filling the tent and his lungs. Then, he hears Ren rummaging around in one of their bags, hears a water bottle being opened.

The coldness of the wet cloth that is being placed on his forehead makes Hux sigh against his will and actually tricks his body and mind into relaxing, if only for a few moments.

“You looked like”, Hux starts, taking a short break at finding that talking is not as easy as he presumed, “You looked like you were having a seizure. Like you were choking. I didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to see any of it.”

“Forget it. And don’t even think of asking me a _single_ question about it.”

A wind gust causes the tent’s open entrance to flap around wildly. It’s bright outside, bright and grey.

“You need to sleep, Hux. Or try not to move, at least. It cannot go on like this. I will find a solution.”

Ridiculous. _It cannot go on like this._ As though Hux has been lying around for days.

Hux has no idea what Ren means to do when he leaves the tent without another word and isn’t exactly passionately curious about finding out, let alone willing to make sense of what Ren means by wanting to find a ‘solution’. He won’t bother thinking about it, no. His eyelids feel too heavy, anyway.

Sleep doesn’t come instantly, but when it does there is nothing but the relief offered by darkness, tranquility and freedom of pain.


	8. Chapter 8

Hux has never felt as if he were on fire without actually burning before.

There had been one instance when he was still in training, where he had participated in an advanced simulation that only the best students were allowed to undergo. It had been an honor, a privilege, because contrary to the standard simulations, they featured an actual four-dimensional experience - meaning that, even though obviously no one could be fatally harmed, physical sensations were recreated for the sake of authenticity. Hux had almost screamed when he got an idea of what it felt like to be in the direct line of fire of a flamethrower.

However, the all-consuming pain had stopped just before it could force a single sound out of Hux - which he is, quite honestly, still proud of to this day - and the simulation had ended, at least for him. _I expect a more precise sense of judgement next time, Cadet Hux._

Now, Hux wishes he never woke up as he feels like someone placed him in front of a running aircraft engine.

He tries to get up, remembers that he can barely move, and stills.

The tent’s entrance is still open, revealing long, wet blades of grass and grey clouds at the horizon. The clouds are moving incredibly fast, dizzyingly so - faster than the wind could possibly move them, some of them swirling through the air in wavy motions, some of them exploding and shattering into thousands of tiny pieces. Hux squints as hard as he can, and after that, the clouds hang thickly in the sky, near motionless.

He looks at the rusty colour of the bandages applied to his leg. It makes him feel sick, and the longer he stares at it, the more the shade of brownish-red continues to deepen. When Hux moves his eyes to the right, the grimy spot is visible on the tent’s wall.

Shaking his head, he risks a glance over at Ren’s empty sleeping bag, but the bag and everything surrounding it is blurry-lined and swimming before Hux’s eyes as though he was watching through a wall of water.

Hux’s mind just barely grasps what is happening to him, overwhelmed by pervasive heat.

He must be delirious, but whether it’s because of the blood-loss, the fever or his insufficient diet is up for debate.

For a second, the tent looks like it’s crumbling in on itself, the walls falling down and threatening to cover Hux whole, and Hux gasps. The next moment, they’re perfectly flat again.

Panic-stricken, Hux presses his eyes shut, his fists clenching the sleeping bag even though the tension makes his whole upper body hurt. The tiny stars behind his eyelids soon become sickeningly agile, swirling around and forming up to an all-devouring vortex. His eyes flutter back open.

For the first time in his life, Hux is sincerely happy to see Ren when he comes crawling into the tent, dripping wet from the rain.

“Ren, help me- help me get up.”

“You look barely alive. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m-”, Hux begins, but groans instead of finishing his sentence when the white little stars from before prick all over his vision.

His pulse quickens when Ren inches closer, pinning Hux under that unidentifiable sort of stare he has given him several times now. The completeness, the genuineness, the _intensity_ of this look has Hux lying still, feebly and foolishly enjoying the undivided attention. Ren’s stare fixes him to the ground, a silent command Hux submits to without difficulty. There are two Rens, suddenly, and both of them are bending over, inclining their heads and stretching out their hands to cup the crease between Hux’s neck and shoulder. There is just one thumb, however, too gently and too slowly tracing the sharp line of Hux’s jaw. The prickling trail it leaves sends shivers down Hux’s spine and his breath catches. The thumb is removed from his jaw and the hand is creeping upwards to cover Hux’s cheek, pressing down lightly. When Hux feels the swift brush of the thumb against the outlines of his mouth, he remembers why exactly he’s allowing this to happen - the sensation is addictive.

He leans into the touch, distracted and captivated by it so much that the pain is momentarily forgotten, and as the the urge to watch Ren’s movements arises, Hux opens his eyes and the warmth is gone.

Ren is sitting in the far left corner across from Hux, completely motionless and eyeing him skeptically. His hands are in his lap, unmoving and tense, just like the rest of him.   

Hux promptly realizes that he must have been hallucinating, that Ren’s hand hasn’t been anywhere near his face and that everything he just allowed himself to savour was merely a projection of his own sick mind.  

He forces his expression to remain neutral, hopes more than ever that it won’t give him away and that Ren won’t pry around in his head.  

“Hux”, he hears Ren say, the sound dull as though spoken from behind a wall, “Your fever has gotten worse.”

Once again, Hux is impressed by Ren’s extraordinary talent for stating the obvious.

“I suspected as much”, he croaks in reply, his voice hardly recognizable as his own.

If Hux is fantasizing about Ren groping his face, his state really must be severe.

“There’s nothing more I can do.”

Hux is fully awake all of a sudden, alert.

“What are you implying?”

“I can do nothing to ease your fever, let alone cure it. It has gotten beyond my control. In addition, your wounds won’t heal. The bacta should have made at least a little difference by now, but it hasn’t. I know we haven’t been staying here for very long yet, however I sensed that due to this lack of process, your healing will take… too long.”

“Again”, Hux says, dread rising in his chest, “What are you implying?”

“I have been meditating for many hours. We will need to proceed differently.”

“Do it, then.”

“What?”

“Leave.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you’re saying that you can’t fuss over me any longer, then don’t. There is no time for that and I understand it.”

Ren gives him the most curious look, then.

“You think I’ll leave you here and go on on my own? I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

“Then _please_ enlighten me what you plan to do instead, Ren”, Hux urges, successfully not showing how relieved he is by Ren’s answer.

“As I said, I have been meditating, in search of a way. And I stumbled across something. Something that might help me- bring you back to health. It’s the only option I consider both possible _and_ reasonable.”

“What is it.”

“It’s-”, Ren tries, but he’s already sounding unsure and defensive of his great plan, “I saw a village. And it’s inhabited.”

Hux wills himself to concentrate and make sense of what Ren is telling him.

“You’re suggesting to- you want to go there? And do what, search for more medication?”

“Not quite. I- the people, who live there. They appear to be-”

“It doesn’t matter what they are. We can’t go there and make our presence known.”

“They’re trained in the Force.”

“They’re-”, Hux starts, but stops when suddenly the second Ren appears again. “They’re _what?”_

“Not only are they Force-sensitive, it seems they are proficient in using the light side”, Ren says, disgust prominent in his voice.

“I felt it”, he adds when Hux’s look turns from surprised to suspicious, “the calmness. The desire for balance, peace. However useless and wasteful their methods may be, there is a key-ability they might possess if they truly are as acquainted with the light side as I envisioned them to be.”

“I thought those people had vanished. As I understood it, Luke Skywalker was - is - the last Jedi.”

“It’s not- they don’t have to be Jedi, not necessarily.”

“You can’t expect them to cooperate. Chances are that they won’t want to help me.”

“Then I will make them.”

Hux can only guess to what extent the danger of being ‘trained in using the light side’ might hold for them and which powers come with that knowledge. If those people are even half as powerful and easily infuriated as Ren, Hux won’t even glance in that village’s direction.

“Yes, _sure_ you can be very convincing”, Hux snarls, his annoyance with Ren’s stubbornness getting the better of him, “however, have you thought about what might happen if this magnificent plan backfires and they’re prepared? Armed? Outnumbering us? A crippled, bedridden general with a broken blaster and an impulsive maniac against a village full of Force-trained individuals?”

“It’s not in their nature to _attack_ _,_ they _defend,_ if anything. It’s part of their pretentious, self-righteous peace-loving ideal”, Ren explains, ignoring the insult.

“Well they’ll have to defend themselves. Against you.”

“This is not open for discussion, Hux. My decision is made.”

Hearing Ren talk like his father infuriates Hux only further. He might be weakened, but he will _not_ be treated like a child. Before Hux can voice his anger, Ren continues.

“If the fever is not seen to as soon as possible, it will be fatal.”

Hux takes a moment to let that sink in, and Ren’s determined tone and expression keep Hux from questioning the truth of that statement.

“No need to be so dramatic.”

“Your hesitation had me assuming you might not be aware of the severity of your condition.”

“It does feel like dying, now that you remind me. I am eager to hear, however, how you intend to get me there.”

“You will not like it.”

“You will have it your way, no matter my opinion. So, why are you telling me about your plan in the first place?”

“I thought you might like to know where we’re headed so you won’t have a panic attack when you wake.”

“When I w-?”

However, before Hux can ask Ren about a more detailed version of his schemes, Ren extends his hand and everything goes black.

 

***

 

Hux can’t determine how much time has passed when he comes back to his senses.

He’s tired of it - of being unconscious and waking up to a scene he can’t remember agreeing to be in. He does remember that Ren announced he would drag him somewhere, though - to this village from his vision - and Hux relaxes just slightly when he sees Ren’s cloaked figure walking ahead of him. His black hair is hidden under his helmet, and Hux realizes that he wasn’t aware Ren was still carrying it around with him.

Hux blinks and tries to pinpoint where he is. Lying on his back, looking up at the sky, clouds lazily passing by, body still aching. His hand drops to his side, and Hux startles when it falls into nothing and dangles loosely mid-air, his fingers brushing what feels like grass. He’s most definitely in a horizontal position, which doesn’t add up with the fact that he’s obviously _moving._

“Ren- what-”

Ren’s stride doesn’t falter, his head doesn’t turn around.

The surface Hux is lying on feels soft - when he fumbles at his sides, hoping to find something to hold on to, he’s surprised to grasp bars on either side. This combination can only mean that he was placed on some sort of stretcher.

Hux only notices how used he has gotten to Ren’s actual voice when he winces at hearing the cracking of the voice modulator.

“This is most straining for me, and it drains my energy with every step. You will lie completely still for the rest of the way if you know what’s best for you.”

Hux can’t believe that this is happening. The idea of Ren using his fainting-trick on him, building a stretcher, placing Hux on it and dragging him along on it via the Force is almost too much to take, a very absurd combination of actions that doesn’t fit with Hux’s concept of Kylo Ren. He could have made Hux come along in other, more painful ways, but for some reason, he chose not to.

“How far is it? Where is my bag?”

“We’re about to arrive. It’s at your feet.”

A careful glance down his damaged body confirms that indeed, Hux’s bag is with him on the stretcher.

Ren’s statements are clipped, his walk is stiff and brisk. It doesn’t take much observatory skill to see that he’s nervous - and it can only mean that something potentially hazardous is awaiting them. Hux knows that this would be a battle he wouldn’t make it through.

Despite knowing he’s supposed to lie still, Hux slowly moves his head to check if the landscape has changed, and is somewhat disappointed to find that they’re still walking alongside the cliff, the ocean stretching out before his eyes in the distance. It appears to be a little less rocky though, and the grass looks a lot healthier. The wind is less intense here and even though it’s still cloudy, the rain has stopped.

The sea looks calm and even, but holds no appeal for Hux. His mother apparently died at a beach like this, with her last thought being that she’d never see her only child again. Hux wishes that he would not be bothered by it the way he is. After all, he barely knew her. He also wasn’t exactly aware that their bond was so strong that he would be able to see her death in his dreams without actually having been there to witness it. Unless-

Unless, the images were put there intentionally. By an external force. Something or someone might have wanted him to know the truth.    

Hux’s thoughts are interrupted when he feels himself and the stretcher being lowered cautiously until his back is pressed against solid ground. Ren’s breaths are sharpened by the modulator, making his exhausted panting even more apparent when he detaches the lightsaber from his belt. Hux can only peek up at him, unable to see anything that lies behind him.

“Try to get up”, Ren suddenly says, and Hux unbelievingly realizes that he’s being serious, “I know you want to.”

“Obviously”, Hux says, lifting a hand and demonstratively dropping it again, “it doesn’t matter how strongly I wish to.”

Ren is right - being carried around on a stretcher like an invalid is not an entrance Hux deems dignified and representative of his position. However, considering that Ren just recently told him his fever will kill him if not seen to, the thought of simply getting to his feet seems far-fetched, to say the least.

“I will help. Try it.”

Ren is now facing him. If he’s making fun of Hux, the mask is hiding it. Hux quickly starts feeling pressured by Ren’s tense, expectant silence, so he puts his doubts aside and grabs the bars on his sides as tightly as he can.

He presses his eyes shut, expecting to be overwhelmed with agonizing pain at contracting the muscles in his upper body, holds his breath, prepares -

Only to find that it’s bearable.

Hux is in a sitting position when he opens his eyes again. The movement felt alien, rather unpleasant, yet easier and less painful than expected.

“I don’t think I can put pressure on my leg”, Hux says, not looking up at Ren but down at his own feet. They don’t feel like they’re attached to his body.

“You won’t have to. Take a deep breath.”

Luckily, Hux complies instead of questioning it, because the next moment he is pulled to his feet abruptly by invisible hands. He screams as pain explodes in his chest and his leg, rippling through the rest of his body and leaving him burning and shaking all over.

 _“Oh-_ my-" _,_ Hux pants, glaring at Ren in fury, “you should have- there should have been a _warning,_ are you completely _dense_ _?”_

He blacks out for a second, tries to regain his focus.

“Pain is worse when you expect it.”

“Wonderful. Got any other worldly wisdoms to share?”, Hux bites through gritted teeth, bending over, already wondering for how long he’ll be able to keep standing like this.

“Yes. Get a grip and try moving your feet.”

He wants to jump at Ren and strangle him on the spot. Hux’s blood is boiling with anger and embarrassment. Ren obviously has no idea what kind of pain he’s in, and that just standing and talking at the same time makes him long for unconsciousness again.

And yet he takes another deep breath through his nose, concentrates on the ground before him and places one foot in front of the other.

Hux takes another step after realizing that he was successful, and another after that, and a fourth one. When he threatens to stumble, the invisible grip is there to steady him.

He comes to a stop in front of Ren, looking at where he believes his eyes to be behind the mask.

“If you stopped using the Force on me right now”, Hux asks, trying not to let this sound as pathetic as it actually is, “would I collapse? Immediately?”

“Yes.”

Glancing down, Hux sneers. Yet another thing for Ren to expect some sort of appreciation for.

It’s like Hux is a lifeless, spineless puppet, and Ren is holding his strings. Quite literally.

“However”, Ren suddenly adds, “I don’t see why I should do so.”

“I’m sure you don’t”, Hux utters in reply, angered by this evident mockery.

If Hux were in Ren’s position, had that kind of control over him, he could surely think of ways to demonstrate his superiority.

“You think I enjoy this”, Ren says flatly, and Hux stares daggers into Ren’s ridiculous helmet.

“Of course you do.”

There’s a short while where either of them is silently standing rooted to the spot. Then, Ren lifts his hand.

Hux feels it instantly - the slight, but determined tug, strong enough to pull his unresistant body forward. The low hum of it vibrates in his ears, lets him know he’s surrounded by it, reassures him that struggling against it is futile. It’s unlike someone tugging on your shirt, or grabbing your arm and dragging you forward - it’s an omnipresent, evenly distributed pull that might as well be a push, external but flooding Hux at the same time.

It makes Hux stumble towards Ren in a few, unsteady strides, and stops him when their bodies are mere inches apart. Hux can hear Ren’s breath, shallow and unnaturally slow, and if Hux's head fell forward it would easily hit the cold metal of Ren’s mask.

For a moment, Hux wavers, nervousness and unease draining out the burning ache of his injuries.

He looks up - and feels the hum skip and his knees giving in.

The suddenness of it makes him gasp, it’s so abrupt that Hux barely realizes what’s happening.

When he’s sure he’s falling, arms too weak and slow to react in time, the hum returns, and Hux is held up again.

His heart is beating so fast that he fears it might reopen the cuts in his chest.  

“You’re right”, Ren breaks the silence, looking down on Hux while letting his hand drop back to his side.

Then, he turns his cloaked back on Hux and proceeds to walk in the direction of the village Hux only now finds they’re right in front of.

It reminds him of entering the forest on their first day, only that the trees here aren’t nearly as huge.

Small, wooden huts with leaky-looking, thatched roofs stand on either side of the muddy path that winds itself through the village. Hux wonders if this can even be considered a village. From where he stands, he can already see what he assumes to be the center - a roundish place, empty except for a few tree stumps and a fireplace.

Hux wills himself to follow Ren, swearing to make him pay for his pathetic little display of power. He must be very desperate to look for validation in humiliating Hux, who is already weakened to the point of being unable to get up by himself. Hux, who let himself be weakened like this to save Ren’s worthless life. There’s no way Hux will let him get away with this.

However, first of all he will need to recover in order to get back at Ren in an equally, if not more humiliating way. Until then, Hux will do well to remember that he’s dependant on Ren’s visions and his... _persuasion skills._

With Ren continuing to Force-support him, Hux moves - slowly, but it’s a start - towards the two stone pillars that frame the entrance of the little village. They could have been statues once, but atmospheric conditions and vegetation appear to have concealed whatever purpose they might have served in the past. Now they’re nothing more than pieces of rock, and ugly ones at that.

Ren pays them no attention, doesn’t seem to pay attention to any of the details Hux has started analyzing, and instead makes his way to the first hut he sees with a determination Hux knows too well. Whomever Ren will find behind that shabby wooden door doesn’t stand a chance.  

A wind chime jingles excitedly when Ren lifts his hand and blasts the door open without touching it.

Hux wants to order him to wait but is not quick enough. The complete silence makes the crash of the splintering wood and the jingling chimes sound even louder.

“Out”, Ren barks at someone Hux can’t see yet, and he can’t decide whether it’s anticipation that makes him hold his breath or fear.

“Come out. I will not hesitate to make you”, Ren repeats when nothing happens.

And then, very sluggishly, Hux watches an old, wrinkly looking creature emerge from the darkness of the hut. Shakily, carefully it sets one foot in front of the other, approaching Ren as if in slow-motion.

Only at second glance does Hux realize that the creature is not in fact just _some_ creature - it’s an old, Mirialan woman. Very old, it seems - her head barely reaches up to Ren’s chest, and her long, spidery fingers are tightly clutching a wooden staff, probably making sure she isn’t blown away by the next wind gust. Even though everything about her looks fragile and unsteady, her face is hard and fearless.

Her hair is hidden beneath the big hood of her brownish cloak. Her uneven skin is a deep olive green. Many dark, symmetrical lines cover her face. The Mirialan tattoos have always reminded Hux of war paint, more of a statement than a defining feature, even though he knows that it’s part of their culture and nature and has nothing to do with displaying an aggressive attitude.

Her dark lips form to a sneer when she lifts her head to meet the gaze she can’t see.

“What do you want”, she snarls, her voice much stronger and darker than Hux would have expected.

“Are you skilled in healing?”, Ren inquires, unwavering.

“Indeed.”

Hux can already feel Ren’s impatience with her.

“His wounds need immediate healing”, Ren says flatly, gesturing in Hux’s general direction, “You will make sure he recovers.”

Just _charming._ This is not going to work, if the sour look the woman shoots Hux then is anything to go by.

“And if I don’t comply you will force me to, I assume?”

Ren’s lightsaber flickers to life with a crack.

“Indeed.”

“I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that. You come to my house, destroy my door, in disguise. Why should I do you this favor? You kill me, he dies. You could torture me, but I’m warning you - torturing me is no fun. I know torture, know all about it.”

“That’s what they all say. It’s not always physical torture that is most effective.”

“Impressive. However, he doesn’t look like he needs this kind of healing. He looks just fine.”

It’s too sudden to take it all in at once - the hum disappears, the grip is gone, Hux’s knees give in and the next moment, he’s lying in the mud and screaming in pain. He can no longer locate the pain, it’s not in his leg, not his chest, not his head, it’s _everywhere._ The sky and the trees above him are spinning and he can’t remember ever having felt this helpless.

“I know your ignorance is only pretense. You are experienced, and acquainted with the ways of the Force. You will help him and I will spare you. And your granddaughter.”

Hux can’t see them, only hears the long, tense silence that follows.

“You won’t touch her.”

“You know my conditions, woman. It’s easy.”

When Hux is about to pass out, he feels the grip and the hum returning, keeping him awake and lifting his upper body until he’s in a sitting position.

Just the right angle to see Ren extending his hand forcefully and summoning a second figure, shrieking out of surprise. At unnatural speed, she seems to soar through the air, her voice silenced when Ren’s hand connects with her throat - the granddaughter Ren must have spoken of.

The old Mirialan lifts her free hand immediately and with unexpectedly youthful ease, but her whole body freezes as soon as her arm is fully outstretched.

“Don’t you _dare_ trying basics on me. Force-blasts will get you nowhere”, Ren spits, now holding both women tightly under his control - and, much to his dismay, Hux too.

The girl is, unsurprisingly, of Mirialan origin as well, with olive skin and dark lines, though much fewer of them grace her face than her grandmother’s. Hux can’t see many details, however he can determine that she’s slim and almost matches Ren in height.

“When I release you”, Ren growls at the paralyzed older woman, “you will announce your decision. Healing him is your first option, suffering your second. Be glad you’re given the choice.”

Hux counts the seconds. When he reaches three, the woman’s tenseness eases and the staff drops to the ground with a thud. She pants from the effort of standing upright without it, but doesn’t quit staring at Ren’s mask.

“I will heal him”, she croaks as though having been choked, “if you do these two things I ask of you.”

“You’re in no position to ask anything of me”, Ren shoots, lifting his saber.

“First, you’ll let go of my granddaughter. Second, you will take off that mask. Then I’ll do anything to tend to every single one of your friend’s injuries.”

 _Friend._ Hux cringes at the choice of expression, but doesn’t avert his eyes from the scene for a single second. This should be easy - the old woman isn’t asking for much, from Hux’s perspective. Ren can’t kill her, everyone knows this including Ren himself, and torturing her will most likely have negative impact on her healing abilities and her concentration. It would be wise to find a way to avoid having to go to extremes, saving them all much time and effort.

This idea, however, would imply that Ren is capable of repressing his easily roused anger and able to make logical and rational decisions in situations of stress that also seem optimal for everyone involved.

“Why would you want me to remove the mask?”, Ren says, his irritation obvious despite the aural alterations inflicted by the modulator.

“Because I see no reason to wear it. I am not afraid of you, whether you’re hiding your face or not. This problem can be solved peacefully, so this is what I’m offering to make it work. You have already pried around in my mind, and you saw the honesty in my words. Take it off.”

Her calm aura is frightening in a way Ren’s lightsaber or his mask or his fury could never be. It’s wisdom and experience she radiates, the kind of attitude Hux is usually good at keeping as well - except when it comes to interacting with Ren.  

“Listen carefully. Whatever promises you’ll come up with, I will _not_ take off this mask, even if you offered to heal a _thousand_ of my injured allies-”

“For _goodness’ sake,_ Ren, just take off the damn thing!”, Hux finds himself shouting before he can help it, the ache in his chest reminding him just how badly he’s in need of what the old Mirialan is not only able, but now _willing_ to give him.

Ren is making this whole affair unnecessarily complicated and Hux is tired of it, especially since his life just happens to _depend_ on how quickly his wounds are seen to.

His outburst earns him three heads turning around sharply in what he believes to be surprise. Of course, Ren is the first one to talk back at him.

“No. You have no say in this, and she can’t ask this of me-”

“I am _dying,_ Ren, and yes, she can.”

A child. Hux is in the company of an actual child, one that he has to bargain with in order to assert himself. Telling him he has no say in this when it’s _Hux_ who’s at the brink of death isn’t something an adult would say.

Hux is about to start yelling at Ren again when he watches the impossible happen.

With a harsh intake of air, the girl Ren is holding drops to the ground, every breath following sounding like her throat has been squeezed awfully hard. Her grandmother rushes over instantly, dropping to her knees and cradling her in her arms to make sure she’s alright.

All Ren does is face away from Hux, lift both his hands and place them on the clasps of his mask. Hux watches in astonishment as he pulls it off and drops it carelessly, as though he has not just thrown a fit over wanting to keep it on.

Both women look at the helmet, startled by the clanking sound its impact made. They proceed to get to their feet, the old one ironically helping the younger one up. Their eyes wander to Ren’s face at the same time. While the wrinkly eyes of the old Mirialan remain cold and unimpressed, the girl’s eyes narrow before growing wide. Had Hux in any way anticipated what would happen next, he would have supported Ren with not giving in to the old woman’s requests.  

“Ben?”

It’s too silent after the girl says what Hux is sure will be her last word. He feels the hum keeping him upright quivering, continuously fading and returning again so quickly and irregularly it makes Hux sway. Unable to see Ren’s expression, Hux hopes frantically that he won’t have to watch Ren’s lightsaber cut the necks of his only chance to survive.

“Ben, it’s me. Ahni Khaleesa.”

“We’ve never met.”

“We have, we- we trained together, as kids, with L-”

“I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.”

“You must feel that it’s me. I know your presence, you must know mine-”

“Shut up!”

And she does.

Ren looks calm, but his voice is full of confusion and hatred, which Hux finds scarier than his usual tantrums. Just by his voice, Ren could be tearing up and shaking with fury, just by his face, he could be attending a particularly boring meeting. It might be him trying to conceal this emotional outburst without the mask doing it for him - though obviously he’s failing miserably and appears even madder than usual.

“The boy you knew is dead. I killed him. And now, you’ll be quiet if your ability to breathe means anything to you. You, get the healing done”, Ren barks at the old woman and seems to give her a Force-push in Hux’s direction as she’s suddenly stumbling towards him.

He feels his upper body sinking slowly to the ground, carefully as though supported by hands. Hux knows, however, that there are no hands and that there’s certainly no support.

The hard, almost steel-like features of the old Mirialan then block Hux’s view of the grey sky, her eyes less scrutinizing and accusing than he would have anticipated.  

“Close your eyes and concentrate on the sensation. Not the sensation of my touch, but rather the one that will be flooding you. It will be done a lot quicker if you not only allow it, but desire it to move freely within you.”

“You bet I want it to move freely within me”, Hux utters spitefully, the tone of the old woman’s voice making him feel like a child with a papercut.

“Now”, she continues, obviously pretending to have ignored Hux’s snide remark, “relax. It’s going to feel cold, unpleasantly so, to a degree.”

“I might just endure a little cold if it saves my life.”

She presses her lips into a thin line and stretches out a wizened hand, bringing it down to Hux’s damaged upper leg. Without removing the bandages, she applies pressure on the injury, not enough to be painful but enough to make Hux uneasy.

She closes her eyes, tips her head back and takes a deep breath. At first, nothing happens, and Hux waits. He forces himself to think of something calming, something that might distract him from the fact that a complete stranger is trying some bizarre hocus-pocus ritual on him in order to keep him from dying a miserable death.

 _Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill,_ a voice in his head whispers.

It eases the nervousness only partially. Hux wonders if this is going to hurt. Or whether the old woman has tricked both Ren and him and those will be his last breaths. But didn’t she claim to know that Ren believes her? That he sensed the truth in her words and the innocence of her intentions? Then again, how did Ren feel this with his Force-perception corrupted? He couldn’t sense the panthac attacking them, how can sense things now? Did he lie? Did he tell Hux some sob-story about being broken so he wouldn’t mock him for his failure?

“You’re not relaxing”, the Mirialan pronounces solemnly, then seems to turn around to look at Ren, “he’s not relaxing.”

As if _Ren_ could contribute to changing this.

“I’m trying”, Hux rasps, feeling weaker with every second.

“You must try harder.”

She closes her eyes again. So, this is fine. Relief is close, soon the pain will be gone, all Hux will have to do is allow that dubious sensation to flow into his body and let it do its work.

No, _desire_ it to do its work. Hux has to want this. So he wants this more than anything at the moment, wants this with all his might. This is what he’s been waiting for, this will bring him back to health, make him strong again. This needs to happen so he can accomplish this mission. He wants it more than anything or anyone.

It feels wrong to think this, for some reason, but it has to be.

The sensation Hux has been waiting for starts to sink into his leg. Slowly but steadily it reaches the ripped skin, seeps into his flesh, then into his torn muscles. It’s cold indeed, icy, in fact. A cold that’s neither pleasant nor particularly unpleasant, simply alien. It feels like drinking ice cold water, but since that feeling is now located far from his stomach, it causes an involuntary conflict in Hux’s brain. Technically, this is impossible. This is illogical - every fibre of Hux’s being refuses to believe this to be real. A wound this deep cannot be healed just by someone’s touch.

“It will take ages like this”, the old woman says, her voice sounding strained, “do you wish to be healed before nightfall? Do you wish to be healed at all?”

“Yes”, Hux sighs, trying to rid himself of every doubtful thought, “yes, but I just can’t seem to- this, this is surreal-”

His self-control and discipline have always been the traits Hux admires most about himself, which leaves him clueless as to why he can’t put to use either one of them right now.

He shuts his eyes. He can make this work.

The press of the wrinkly hand on his thigh gets heavier and makes Hux wince.

He feels the cold returning, and he feels a slight difference, too - it’s less foreign now, slightly more pleasant. Still, some of Hux’s defenses won’t go down. He’s not sure whether he can will himself to trust this woman enough to let the sensation flood him completely.

Hux doesn’t understand why it’s then that his inner eye produces an image of an unmasked Ren.

Ren isn’t involved in this, not directly.

But what if he was?

At first, Hux is shocked by the thought, by its bluntness and its suddenness. What if Ren were capable of healing wounds? Would it feel like this, or different? Would Ren be just as careful and squeamish or would he just go for it, regardless of Hux’s inner turmoil?

What if it was not, in fact, the old woman’s energy he’s feeling, but Ren’s?

It isn’t, of course. But the idea is comforting in a way that scares Hux.

It’s easy to imagine Ren’s hand pressing down on him instead of the wrinkly one, and it’s easy to imagine Ren telling him to stop whining and get a grip on himself.

It’s suddenly easy to relax and free his mind of the last bits of uncertainty.

This might be a near death experience, Hux might be delusional and slowly losing control over his own thoughts. However, deep down he knows that he’s about to distance himself from death’s door.

Without warning, the cold spreads further and reaches a completely new level of intensity. It gets gradually colder and crawls through his veins, numbing his leg like a narcotic - though it doesn’t exactly feel like an injection. More like a being, a living _thing_ cursing through Hux’s blood and rushing to repair any damage. No, correction - a thousand, maybe thousands of tiny creatures scrabbling within him, patching him up. Hux almost laughs at how insane this sounds, even in his own head.

His leg feels neither warm nor cold when the hand is removed, it feels nonexistent. Hux is sure it was taken off, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes.

The imaginary Ren proceeds to check Hux’s face for a feedback of some kind, with that pitying look he’s given Hux so often now. He adjusts his legs and slides closer until his knees are level with Hux’s chest. He stretches out both of his hands and lets them rest on Hux’s shoulders, gives them a light squeeze. The touch feels so real that it startles Hux momentarily, and even though he knows that his shoulders are uninjured and no one has any reason to touch them, he’s convinced that the hands are there. He’s also convinced that they belong to Ren.

The tingly sensation in Hux’s thigh then informs him that his leg is, contrary to his earlier assessment, still connected to his body.

Something brushes Hux’s neck and his stomach turns. The imaginary Ren removes his hands and places them on Hux’s chest, yet the touch remains firm on his shoulders, keeping the anxiety at bay with soft determination.

Then, almost explosively, the cold expands in Hux’s ribcage. He inhales sharply, expecting pain, but there’s nothing but gentle waves of ice that lap at his insides.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. This second time the cold didn’t feel like an intruder, but rather like an inhabitant brought to life by the warmth of the hands touching Hux. Like before, his chest slowly starts numbing, all feeling leaving it until Hux once again starts wondering whether he’s been drugged. It isn’t entirely implausible - the pain he felt before would have easily concealed the sting of an injection needle.

Immediately, the image of Ren returns. For some reason, the sun is shining in this scenario behind Hux’s eyelids, and he feels warm despite the chilliness within him. Ren is observing him openly, not hiding behind his hair or his mask, not facing away, not avoiding Hux’s gaze. Hatred seems to have left him, making way for an expression Hux has never seen him wear before. He’s smiling.

The lack of cruelty in Ren’s look is disturbing and Hux is at a loss how to retreat from how positively he receives this - the realization that he’s enjoying this sickens him.

 _Am I dying?,_ Hux asks in his mind, even though he knows that he’s far from it.

 _No,_ Ren says, but the voice ringing in Hux’s ears doesn’t belong to him.

 _Open your eyes,_ Ren adds calmly, again with an old woman’s voice.

Ren’s hands, the contours of his face, his smile, everything starts fading slowly, until it’s all displaced by the harsh, clear picture of reality.

The first thing Hux sees is the sky, and it’s grey.

His uninjured hand moves to his chest instinctively, the crusty bandages rough beneath his fingers. Except for a minor ache in his wrist, Hux feels no pain.

For a few seconds, he thinks he might still be dreaming. Hux might have been thrown into yet another hallucination, or trance, caused by the pain. This is too good to be true.

However, the truth of his successful healing comes more and more within reach as Hux rolls to his side, pushes himself up and starts getting to his feet - even if his knees still feel wobbly and fragile and his brain still feels like achy mush.

Unable to suppress the sudden rush of joy overwhelming him, he huffs a disbelieving laugh and looks up to search for Ren.

When he finds him, Ren is just letting his gaze roam from Hux’s leg up to his chest, expression not giving away what he might be thinking.

Ren meets Hux’s eyes when he reignites his lightsaber, its crackling and humming ripping through the silence.   
  
“Well then”, he says, turning to face the girl, “since you should have died with all your classmates long ago, I think I should start with you.”


	9. Chapter 9

_Unless you intend to shape the public opinion of you to your advantage, and unless that public is made up of influential do-gooders and naive average citizens - show no mercy. Showing mercy can be a powerful tool, however to think it can contribute to delusions such as_ moral growth _or a_ clear consciousness _is human folly. Do not be merciful where it can’t be seen by the right people._

The phrases force themselves to the front of Hux’s mind, and with them the distinctive, round face of one of his former teachers at the Academy.

Attempting to straighten his back and stand as upright as he can manage, Hux watches with anticipation as Ren leisurely approaches the Mirialan girl. He wonders whether Ren has enjoyed similar disciplinary lessons with Snoke teaching him. Then again, if what the girl says is true and she really _is_ one of Ren’s former classmates - meaning she’s part of the past Ren is so desperately trying to eliminate - her death is inevitable.

Hux is not a mind-reader, but _this_ he saw coming.

This is the Kylo Ren he’s had to deal with for years, ruthless, unpredictable, efficient. Hux is sure that this will be rather thrilling to watch, even if the girl or the old woman should decide to put up a fight.

The first indication of things going downhill is the fearless look on the girl’s face.

Initially, Hux doesn’t notice her lack of intimidation, too fixed on Ren and his angrily spitting lightsaber. Only when he reaches her, his fiery weapon and her neck only inches apart, Hux takes in details about her that he hasn’t perceived up until now.  

The softness of her young face contradicts with the severe expression she’s wearing. The most prominent feature about it are her lips - the dark paint on them makes them look even fuller than they already are. They remind Hux of Ren’s.

Her dark hair is complexly braided, reaching down to the small of her back in two thick plaits. Each plait, Hux finds, has one white streak winding itself down to the tips. Like her grandmother, she’s wearing a brownish, hooded cloak with broad sleeves, with something that looks like a wide flared skirt or dress beneath that hides her legs and feet. The belt around her thin waist has a lightsaber attached to it.

The fact that she doesn’t appear to be making use of it any time soon is the second hint that things will not go according to Ren’s plan.

“I know your story”, she says abruptly, the statement spoken too loudly and too clearly to imply mortal fear.

“You call yourself Kylo Ren now. You’re responsible for the deaths of many.”

Ren says nothing in return, but Hux notes that he has stopped in his tracks.

“I heard about it long ago, and I didn’t want it to be true. But I feel the truth of it, now that you’re standing right in front of me.”

Hux’s eyes shift back to Ren, who’s staring at the girl like she is the source of all his problems. The shake of his head is just barely visible, but Hux sees it.

“It’s impossible. You can’t be alive. I killed each and every one of them”, Ren murmurs, voice low and unsteady, “I killed you.”

She looks at Ren like she’s pitying him for being in denial of her existence when she is standing right there to prove him wrong.

“I wasn’t present that day. A fever tied me to my bed. I - I was planning on joining a little later, but my grandmother forbade me to go. She was watching over me since my mother was gone for the day, meeting Luke Skywalker to discuss my progress, details of my training.”

Eerie silence spreads, and Hux is holding his breath.

“You killed her too, didn’t you?”, the girl says vacantly, “Or was it one of your masked friends?”

No reply.

“Well, what a rude thing of me to ask. I’m sure you don’t remember.”

Why doesn’t Ren finish this? One swift swing downwards and they could move on, but instead, Ren continues to stare at her, swallowing.

“Me and my grandmother, we fled, minutes after hearing what happened. They were all dead - my mother was dead, my friends were dead, and all I could do was run. Couldn’t process any of it until several weeks after. The _Jedi Killer_ was after us, there was no time for questions or grief. Well. Apparently, our disguise was effective up until now.”

 _End it,_ Hux thinks impatiently, hoping Ren might somehow hear it.

“For a few years, every sentiment of disgust and every hateful thought of mine was directed at you. When I heard that it was you who had done it, I wanted to go all the way back and hunt you down. Make sure you suffer for what you did. I dreamt of you thousands of times, and in each dream I would come up with another idea about how to make you die a painful death.”

“Ren”, Hux tries to get his attention, out loud this time - but Ren seems miles away.

“That was imbecile, of course, in retrospect. I behaved the way a stubborn child would. It took me a while to realize that I was taking the path of the dark side, the path of hatred, for a person who should be met with nothing but pity. You don’t deserve something as quick and easy as death, _Ben,_ the miserable and conflicted life you must be leading behind that mask of yours is punishment enough.”   

“This conversation is over”, Ren finally manages to spit, rage returning to his eyes, “I’m not interested in hearing any of this.”

With that, Ren rapidly raises his saber, letting it rush down gracefully to cut the girl’s neck.

Except that his hand stops mid-air before it can get anywhere near her.

Hux’s jaw drops as he watches Ren’s eyes widen, watches his hand and the saber trembling wildly, watches the girl stare him dead in the eye while approaching him.

“I know. Which is why I’m offering to provide you with knowledge that should interest you very much.”

There’s a moment where Ren neutralises his expression, closes his eyes, and waits. Then, an invisible blow hits the girl and she stumbles backwards, if only a few steps. Ren’s hand is released from her grip.

“You think you’re daring, courageous. Let’s see where your arrogance will get you”, Ren hisses, taking two big strides in her direction.

“You will fail your mission if you insist on sticking to your current plan and clinging to your current take on things.”

Ren stops again, but Hux is sure that no use of the Force was necessary this time. Hux himself is quite taken aback by her statement - annoyed with her defiance, but impressed with the strategy she’s adopting to keep Ren from terminating her. Ren is falling for it, after all.

“What?”

“Your mission. The reason you’re here. I’ve seen what you intend to do to achieve it, and you will fail.”

“Empty words can’t trick me.”

Quiet spreads between them once again, but this time so intensely that Hux can hear the trees swaying in the wind, leaves rustling.

Ren and the girl keep piercing each other with their stares, and suddenly Hux has the feeling that they have taken their conversation to a different level - one that people like Hux can neither comprehend nor take part in. There seems to be some sort of connection, and judging from Ren’s expression, the thoughts they’re exchanging are nowhere near pleasant.

Ren’s rage, however, is first replaced by blankness, and soon replaced by outright shock.

“You can’t know these things”, he blurts all of a sudden, “I will make you regret prying around in my head, you foolish-”

“I know this planet like no other. This is my home, even though I was forced to make it my home back then. I can help you remove the barrier. You know I’m being honest.”

Not only does Hux have no clue which barrier the girl is talking about, it also immediately raises a question for him, and apparently, for Ren too.

“Why would you do this? You despise me.”

“I do. This is not some favor I’m doing you out of kindheartedness. You would have to let me and my grandmother live, that’s what I ask of you.”

Ren is obviously conflicted over this. Whatever that girl talked him into believing, it seems to have had a rather big impact on Ren.

“Ren”, Hux tries again, “Go on and be done with it.”

Unlike before, Ren catches Hux’s remark, yet again he just keeps analyzing the girl instead of reacting.

Ren looks tense, thoughtful, probably weighing his options. Hux finds it difficult to understand what Ren would have to weigh his options for - they got what they wanted, shortly Hux will be back to full health and they can resume their mission. Hux can think of no good reason to let either one of the women live.

Much to Hux’s dismay, it’s Ren who’s in charge of deciding whether to kill or not. At least, presently.

“You will never address me with _that name_ again. I will reconsider what you said. If you try to escape, I will sense it.”

With that, Ren picks up his helmet and turns to walk in Hux’s direction, making to leave the village. He meets Hux’s scandalized glance, holds it as if daring him to protest. Hux is not too far from it, if he’s being honest, but causing another scene now wouldn’t lead anywhere.

For a few seconds, Hux keeps standing rooted to the spot, having momentarily forgotten that he can move freely on his own again without having to fear any burning, stinging or bleeding.

He neither regards the girl nor the old woman a second time before he follows Ren wordlessly.

 

***

 

“Just _what_ in the world was that, Ren?”, Hux snarls, enraged by how calmly Ren watches their tent unfold.

They haven’t moved too far from the village’s entrance gate, are actually more or less a few feet in front of it. The beginnings of nightfall bring back the rapidly intensifying cold and Hux shiveringly watches Ren throw their bags into the tent.

“Aren’t you even the _least bit_ skeptical? Are you truly unaware that she has tricked you into sparing her or did I miss out on something here?”

“You missed out on a lot of things. Now stop doubting my decision and rest, or whatever you need to do in order to recover.”

Ren knows that speaking to Hux that way infuriates him the most, so Hux doesn’t rise to the bait.

“Tell me what she promised you. It was about the mission, the mission _I_ am also part of, if I remember correctly.”

A sigh is all Hux gets for an answer at first, and an exasperated one at that. Hux wants to annoy Ren into answering, but then he gets a glimpse of his face and decides against it. Ren is not as composed as Hux initially assumed, his expression a mixture of consternation, nervousness and something that might be doubt.

“Get in the tent. I’ll acquaint you with her offer.”

Hux complies, relieved that Ren doesn’t make this too difficult for him. He’s too tired for a confrontation of that kind.

Inside the tent, Hux unfolds his sleeping bag. It feels good to be doing so all by himself, and when he adjusts himself to sit cross-legged, it sends little rushes of excitement to his chest. He missed sitting with his back straight, especially without having to rely on someone holding him upright.

Ren is looking at his hands when he starts talking.

“You are aware that my ability to use the Force has displayed… minor faults, recently.”

 _A nice way to put it,_ Hux thinks, but doesn’t interrupt.

“Before we set out for the village, right after I induced your unconsciousness, I meditated. And the vision I had-”

Ren pauses for a moment, maybe already regretting opening up to Hux.

“It showed me failing. It showed me dying before I even reached the destination. You didn’t make it either.”

Hux waits, holding his breath.

“Not only did the girl reproduce the entire vision including every last detail, but she also figured that this event I foresaw blocks my view of the rest of the way.”

“Meaning that, because you saw us dying at that point, you can’t imagine another scenario in which we live and find a different way?”

“Exactly. I thought this was final, unchangeable. My visions have never betrayed me before. The girl now told me that she has dealt with something similar years ago, and that she knows a way to bypass this barrier. And even if she’s lying”, Ren stops shortly, meeting Hux’s eyes, “there is no way she can harm me without it escaping my attention. I haven’t found the will in her to do so, anyway. There are many answers I need before we can continue, and she seems to have them.”

“There is an ulterior motive. You’re not that ignorant, Ren. Even if she is the most peace-loving, forgiving and good-hearted creature in this galaxy, you killed her mother and she lives on an isolated planet because of you. Anyone in her position would seek revenge.”

“You’re right.”

Hux almost chokes on his own spit. He’s sure that these words in that particular combination have never left Ren’s mouth before - even if there have been plenty of situations in which Hux had been ultimately right about something, the idea of _admitting_ that seemingly never even crossed Ren’s mind.

“She must be plotting something”, Ren continues, “even if it hasn’t shown to me, not yet, anyway. She radiates hatred and disgust, however skilled she is at concealing it. My plan is to first get an idea of how useful her knowledge really is. If it is just as valuable as she claims, then we’ll need it to proceed safely. If not, we’ll have to hope that my vision was an anomaly caused by my substandard condition.”

The only thing keeping Hux from arguing further is the fact that he doesn’t know enough about Force-visions to convince Ren that killing the girl would be the easiest solution. Hux isn’t interested in dying, which means he’ll have to trust Ren’s instincts on this - which, however, doesn’t mean he likes the way things are developing.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to spare her after she revealed how much she knows about you and your past.”

Ren’s expression turns grim.

“I didn’t _intend_ to, originally. I made that decision based on what’s best in terms of completing the mission, disregarding personal matters. I saw the bigger picture. It’s called proactive strategic thinking, something I thought _you_ did every now and then.”

Ren’s irritation makes him sound defensive, even though he doesn’t necessarily have to be. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Hux knows that Ren is right about keeping her alive. Though for some reason he can’t quite get rid of the disgruntlement he feels at knowing that she’s out there, waiting to whine about her tragic past and cry her heart out in front of Ren, pretending she knows things that he doesn’t. Hux wants to ask Ren about the scavenger girl and why things didn’t work out with her if he’s such a talented, forward-looking strategist, but decides that this would result in an argument he’s not adequately prepared for.

“A genius move. Angrily defending it implies just how deep your conviction is”, Hux mumbles half-heartedly and unfolds his legs to get himself into a lying position. He’s never enjoyed lying down quite like this, is happy to be able to stretch his limbs and drape himself all over his side of the tent. Sleeping might help see things in a different light, might help clear his mind, and despite feeling like he’s spent most of his time on this planet either sleeping or in some other state of unconsciousness, Hux is fairly tired.

“I’ll stay awake. If either of them tries to flee, I’ll sense it and cut them off before they can even reach the door of their hut. If she has the knowledge I think she does, I can’t kill her. Not yet.”

“Fine”, is all Hux manages in reply, turning away from Ren. He feels his own heart rate slowing when he closes his eyes.

Sleep overcomes him so quickly that when Hux wakes again, he does so with a jolt.

How long has he slept?

He sits up to see that Ren is gone.

His throat is very dry, so Hux searches his bag for his water bottle. It’s half empty, and with rising anxiety he realizes that he’ll have to refill it soon.

Now that the all-consuming pain is gone and his perception has cleared up, there is room to focus on his former concerns - he’s hungry, he wants a bath, he needs a shave, he wants to take off the blood stained bandages and his stifling raincoat. He itches to inspect what’s become of his injuries.  

Quickly, he rids himself of coat and undershirt and proceeds to take off the bandages, doing so with unnecessary caution.

As expected, the previously torn open flesh is now covered by smooth, even skin, every trace of the gash that had split Hux’s chest mere hours ago practically erased. All that remains are four parallel, delicate white lines, running from his shoulder down to his ribcage, hinting at where the claws had struck him. His leg looks no different when Hux exposes it - the skin feels thin and raw beneath his fingers when he tentatively touches his thigh, but apart from that the scars would suggest an attack of a _cat_ rather than a panthac.

Hux can’t help but marvel at the old Mirialan’s doing. Had anybody told him two weeks ago that there are beings in this galaxy who can achieve the same remedial effect as a bacta tank with _a press of their hands,_ he would have declared them insane.

On the other hand, Hux could have never imagined ending up like this, not in his wildest dreams. None of his future predictions back then included being attacked by a wild beast, or running around on a remote planet with no sense of time or orientation, or sharing a tent with Kylo Ren. He’s convinced that whatever challenges this place still holds for him, he’s seen it all.

Hux leaves his wounds and pulls fresh clothes as well as some instant bread from his bag. He devours the bread within seconds after he’s changed, the hunger making him ignore its questionable flavour. Slowly but steadily, Hux is running out of clean clothes, and the thought of having to put on the old ones makes him shudder in disgust - he really needs to find salt-free water some time soon.

Only when he lets his eyes roam over the empty sleeping place next to his own does Hux realize what Ren’s absence might mean.

Ren might not be out for his usual routine at all - Ren might be keeping the women from escaping right now, at this moment.

 _I knew it,_ Hux chants in his head when he hastily scrambles to get up and out of the tent, barely noticing that it’s still dark and cold outside. Frosty grass crunches beneath his boots when he approaches the village at a run. He resists the urge to return to the tent and fetch an additional jacket, too eager to find out whether the women are still around and if so, whether they’re still alive. Hux almost fears that he missed the show.

He sees tiny rays of light emanating from the first hut to the right when it comes into sight, implying that something is going on in there - however the screams of anguish Hux had secretly anticipated fail to appear. In fact, the village is disturbingly quiet. Maybe the fight is yet to begin, or already over.

Out of breath, Hux stops in front of the wooden door Ren burst open just a few hours ago. When he presses his ear to it and still can’t hear anything, he pushes it open without second thought.

The sight that is revealed to him is in equal parts disappointing and irritating.

In the center of the roundish room Hux finds before him sits Ren, cross-legged on the floor with his eyes closed. He looks concentrated, tense, but peaceful. The delicate hand resting on his upper arm is unmoving, just like the body it’s attached to. Hux takes in the sight of the girl sitting across from Ren, who is mirroring him in posture and expression. The air in the hut is thick and fraught with some unpleasant kind of tension, and for a long moment Hux can neither move nor avert his eyes from the scene. The room is empty except for two chairs, a table and something that resembles a bed. Candles are placed seemingly randomly all across the floor, making jittery shadows dance on the walls.

“Do not intervene”, comes the hushed and urgent command from somewhere near Hux and his heart jumps in surprise.

When he searches wildly for its source, he finds it standing next to him. The old Mirialan gives him an odd look, silently instructing him to stay where he is and keep his voice down.

“I have the feeling that waking him right now would have dire consequences”, she whispers, nodding her head in Ren’s direction.

 _Oh really?_ Hux wants to say, but instead he just waits for the woman to elaborate.

“I know you don’t care much about the Force and everything to do with it. It’s nonsense to you… You don’t believe in it. It’s incompatible with your ideologies.”

Hux says nothing, not sure what the woman is playing at. From up close and in the dim candlelight, her wrinkles appear even deeper and her miniscule eyes even more menacing. He could count the dots and lines on her face if he wanted to. Her thin mouth forms to a sneer.

“Why did you bother to come? There is no room for condescension here.”

“I was wondering about Ren’s whereabouts. Can you not _sense_ it?”

“I can. However, certain things need to be articulated, sometimes for the sake of self-awareness - sometimes just because it’s polite. People are right to frown upon certain parts of being Force-sensitive, its exclusivity, for example.”

“You surely are one gifted elite”, Hux says monotonously, “so if you would be so kind to inform me about what exactly is happening here.”

The woman sighs and studies Hux as if he were a particularly difficult puzzle to solve.

“This is a form of exchange only its immediate participants can experience. Even I am merely an outsider in this, just here to keep your friend at bay should things escalate.”

“Good luck with that”, Hux snorts, imagining Ren going berserk and the old lady trying to stop him with her crutch.

“Underestimation is one of the basest errors. Weren’t you often underestimated? Haven’t you ridiculed them for being naive?”

Hux tries to figure out whether she just read his mind or whether it was a lucky guess, but eventually, it doesn’t matter. He won’t be intimidated, not by her, not by anyone.

“Please, do continue. I love hearing details about my personal history.”

“Let’s go outside, boy. The risk of pulling them out of their trance is too high.”

 _Boy._ Hux pulls a face, involuntarily thinking of his father.

He takes one last look at Ren and the hand on his shoulder before he turns around and pushes the door open. Something about all of this bothers him immensely.

The air Hux exhales forms into a thick cloud when he steps outside, following the old woman. From behind, her long robes make her look like a moving cloth rather than a living being. She stops, bends down to pick up what appears to be some kind of oil lamp and lights it with a trembling hand.

“I haven’t thanked you yet. For healing me. I owe you my gratitude”, Hux utters, his voice free of emotion. The woman must know he means it only partially.

“No, you were too busy encouraging your friend to kill me and my granddaughter. I accept it though, if manners demand it-”

“Could you- could you _please_ not refer to him as my friend? He is not that, by any means”, Hux interrupts, unable to help himself and his unease.

“I have suspected as much. But I wonder how long it will take you to realize that this hatred you keep convincing yourself of will get you nowhere.”

“I fear you won’t last long enough to find out.”

“Don’t you feel foolish? Making threats in your position? I have seen so many men like you, born into lovelessness and ready-made regimes. They were all murdered, and they all died thinking they were right.”

“Spare me the moral lecture.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to lecture you. Chastising you would go to waste. I just think that people need to be reminded, sometimes, that they’re not as unique as they think they are. Not as _alone,_ either.”

“What are you attempting? Tricking me into opening up to you? That kind of blatant and ill-concealed manipulation might work with your adolescent granddaughter, but not with me.”

“Careful”, she hisses, spinning around so quickly that Hux startles. It only then dawns on Hux that she wouldn’t _need_ to use any kind of manipulative tricks on him since he’s like an open book to her, ready to be read whenever she pleases. Hux swallows when he resists breaking eye contact with her.

“Where are we headed anyway?”, he inaptly changes the topic. He wishes he had gone back and fetched that additional jacket.

“To a place where you’ll get the water you so desperately need”, she spits in reply, her eyes so narrow that Hux can barely see her irises sparkling with fury.

Some good news, at last. Hux deeply hopes that this isn’t a trap of some sort, because as hard as he tries to establish his superiority, it’s obvious who has the upper hand here.

They continue to walk in silence after that. Hux trails her quietly, using the time to take a closer look at the other huts in the village. Everything about this place looks more abandoned than anything - not a single light to be seen, not a single sound to be heard, just an assemblage of sordid looking cabins.

“Are those huts actually inhabited or are they mock-ups as part of some very complex trap? Wouldn’t be my first one”, Hux inquires, the growing darkness around him taking away some of his previous self-confidence.

“You wouldn’t be worth the effort”, she replies flatly, “They’re real, just deserted. Ahni and I are the only two beings living here. The houses were already empty when we found them - we’re constantly on the move, you know. This is only the third week we’re staying here.”

Hux has many questions, but doesn’t fancy the idea of continuing the conversation. What, for example, do they live on? Berries? Fish? Certainly love, peace and harmony can’t fill their stomachs. How do they spend their days? Meditating? Chatting?

It must be a dull, undesirable life, that much is sure. Hux has already lost his mind after a few days of this.

They walk down a shallow slope, frozen leaves cracking with every step. The farther they depart from the village, the more insecure Hux gets about whether following her on his own was that much of an ingenious idea.  

Suddenly, Hux hears a sound that makes his heart jump in delight - the rushing of water somewhere in the distance.

“It’s not far from here, just a few steps ahead. I’d recommend you come here again at daytime though, right now it should be ice cold and not very pleasant to take a bath in. Also, you can relax. I have never killed a single creature in my life, and I won’t ruin that run for someone like you.”

“You’re too gracious.”

She huffs indignantly and pokes Hux’s thigh with her walking stick.

“Damn right I am! How are your injuries? _They’re gone,_ you say? Who healed them, hm? Ungrateful _brat”,_ she growls, turning around theatrically.

Hux is sure he hears her mumble spiteful things until she is out of sight, catching snippets like ‘getting too old for this’ and ‘should have let him die of thirst’.

On the one hand, Hux doesn’t want her to leave him there in the dark, completely on his own. On the other hand, he’s glad he doesn’t have to listen to her chatter for a single second longer.

So he decides to take a look at the river instead of following her back to the village.

Hux heads towards the rushing sound after his eyes have adjusted to the eclipse of the forest - it’s not as dark as he initially feared, blue moonlight illuminating it just enough for him to see where he’s going.

It’s not pura-water Hux finds in the riverbed this time, but regular water. Or so he hopes, if its opaqueness is any indication. He carefully approaches the bank, squatting down right at its brink.

Hux finds that watching the water curl and wind itself around scattered rocks is, in combination with the monotonous whispering sound, rather soothing. If only it weren’t so cold -

He closes his eyes by reflex. He’s only slightly taken aback by the strange surge when he feels it.

The place he finds himself in is familiar to him, though no less intimidating than the last time he was here.

Unable to see anything besides masses of black, unable to see the ground he’s standing on, Hux expects the face of Snoke to appear before it actually does.

_“General Hux."_

Hux holds his breath, remembering how embarrassing his last audience with Snoke had been, how he lied to his face, trembling, sweat-soaked, panic-stricken. Things will proceed differently, this time.

“Supreme Leader.”

_“Report.”_

“The mission is progressing mostly according to plan. An unforeseen attack left me impaired to a considerable degree, however it has been dealt with and I am now back to full health. Ren-”

Hux stops. How much of the recent events can he reveal? He should inform the Supreme Leader about the faults in Ren’s ability to use the Force, and he should most definitely report on how Ren failed to terminate a girl who has intelligence about his former identity. He should let Snoke know that Ren displays atypical behaviour, one which Hux considers inconsistent with the Supreme Leader’s interests. He should tell him that Ren had a vision of Ben Solo and his family, and that Ren wouldn’t have been able to kill the boy even if Hux _hadn’t_ intervened.

Then again - without Ren, Hux wouldn’t be able to stand there and give him away at all.

The way Ren pulled him away from the Fairlight, the way he carried his lifeless body to a safer place, the way he kept Hux from falling down the cliff, the way he aided his wounds after the attack and the way he dragged him along on a stretcher should somehow be taken into consideration in Hux’s report.

But Hux knows it’s not what Snoke wants to hear.

Hux was explicitly instructed to spot discrepancies in Ren’s behaviour. Due to his attentiveness, Hux did spot quite a few.

He just can’t bring himself to pass them on.

All the quick thinking makes Hux aware that he won’t be able to ponder his answer much longer before Snoke deems his statement a lie, whatever comes out of Hux’s mouth. So Hux has to act spontaneously.

“Ren seems to have some difficulties concerning his - while using the Force. He described it as though something was ‘blocking his path’, but as you know, Supreme Leader, I’m not much of an expert in that matter. It’s not a permanent state however, according to Ren. At this very moment he is trying to remove said barrier so we can continue the mission as soon as possible.”

The silence that follows stretches out until it’s almost unbearable. Hux didn’t lie, technically. He didn’t make this up, he didn’t twist the truth. He might just have left out some chunks of it.

_“I see.”_

Hux’s ears and cheeks burn.

 _“I trust your judgement. I trust that you still wish me to address you with_ General _, your rightful title.”_

“Thank you, Supreme Leader. I do believe I am still worthy of it.”

Suddenly, Hux wonders what life on the Finalizer looks like right now. Who is currently in charge? Are preparations being made for the next superweapon? Hux is surprised that up until this point, he hasn’t explicitly asked himself these questions.  

_“I have summoned you for another reason, General. There is something else, another favor I’m asking of you.”_

Hux can tell by Snoke’s stern expression that whatever follows is an order rather than a request.

_“You are to relay a message to Kylo Ren. I hope I am making myself clear when I say that this message is intended for his ears only. Make sure to use my exact phrasing, my exact words.”_

It takes Hux a few seconds to realize that Snoke is waiting for a response.

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”

_“Listen carefully.”_

Hux tries to take a deep breath, but when he attempts to suck in as much air as he can, it doesn’t feel like breathing at all. He can’t feel his lungs expanding.

_“Kylo Ren. Remember what I told you about volition. Remember the scale pans I showed you: all that you need is right there for you to take, but all that feeds your weaknesses lies right next to it and keeps the scale balanced. I taught you how to distinguish - focus on the destination, not the fleeting promise of satisfaction. You know what happens when one side outweighs the other.”_

The words swirl around in Hux’s head while he wonders just how Snoke can expect him to recreate this message to the last detail. Hux can’t make sense of any of it, at least not after having heard it only once.

“Supreme Leader, that message is quite extensive. I-”

_“You know more than twenty entire speeches by heart. You will be able to pass it on, trust me.”_

That’s the last thing Hux hears before the ground starts spinning and he’s violently thrown back to reality.

It’s less of a shock after having experienced it once before, but that doesn’t make the ensuing nausea any more bearable.

It only gets worse when Hux realizes that he has already forgotten half of the message he’s supposed to deliver.

He gets to his feet in a hurry, heart pounding.

Something about volition, scales, having to decide between-

Hux doesn’t waver a second longer before he starts sprinting back to the village. The cold bites his face and his hands and knees are numb, but all he can think of is how to get back every last piece of Snoke’s message. This is the first time in years that Hux is actually _running,_ his feet carrying him faster than he would have thought. It feels good, liberating in a way after having denied himself this slip of control and order for so long. A general doesn’t run, it contradicts the collected and authoritarian demeanor he’s bound to display. Even when Starkiller Base collapsed, Hux at best _jogged_ to get to the audience chamber. No more than a slightly brisker than usual strut was necessary to fetch Ren from the forest, though Hux has to admit that he didn’t exactly care much about what became of Ren at that time.

Now, he needs to get this message forwarded as quickly as possible.   

The way back takes a lot less time, even though much of it goes uphill. Hux ignores everything around him, hoping to reach the hut soon.

 _Kylo Ren. Remember what I told you about volition. Remember the scale I showed you - all that you need is there -_ No. _Right there for you to take. Everything that makes you weak -_ No, _feeds your weaknesses-_

Hux can’t help but panic, not knowing what consequences inaccuracies in the delivered message will have. Maybe Ren remembers Snoke’s exact words so Hux won’t have to go into detail.  

What if Ren and the girl are still meditating? Hux will forget even more if he’ll have to wait any longer.

Hux rushes past the empty fireplace, is mentally already bursting through the wooden door - and then stops dead in his tracks.

A short distance ahead of Hux in the middle of the muddy path he sees Ren and the girl, talking animatedly.

Standing right next to each other, Hux notes that she really _is_ only a few inches shorter than Ren. Ren is rigidly watching her as she seems to be explaining something, her hands gesticulating excitedly.

She then proceeds to lean in, bringing her face closer to Ren’s, all the while muttering things Hux can’t understand from where he stands. She lifts her hand and waves it in front of Ren’s eyes as if to suggest his mental absence and get his attention.

Hux’s pulse quickens when he starts approaching them, inexplicable irritation tightening his chest.

The anger only intensifies when Hux hears the girl laugh lightheartedly at something Ren said. He feels like he could strangle them both on the spot.

“- is a good thing. You couldn’t have achieved that kind of progress without me, _Kylo Ren._ And you know it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It was a small step.”

“A _small step?_ As far as I’m concerned, we’re halfway done.”

“No, there’s more to this. What you did was scratch off the wrapping, what waits inside is the real challenge-”

Ren breaks off his sentence and looks up hastily when he notices Hux’s presence. The girl also turns to regard him, though she doesn’t look half as surprised.

“Ren”, Hux says, pushing down the angry heat rising to his head, “we need to talk.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Are you alright?”, the girl’s now cold voice rings in Hux’s ears, “You do look rather agitated.”

“I need to talk to him in private”, Hux adds with emphasis, shooting her a hostile look.

“I can help.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Leave us”, Ren finally mutters, and to Hux’s disbelief, she does so without further ado.

“Ren, I have a message for you. It’s from the Supreme Leader.”

Ren’s face falls so quickly it’s almost comical.

“You have-”

“There’s no time for explanation, alright? I’ll forget parts of it if I don’t-”

And then, the words start raining down on Hux - the exact amount, the exact kinds, their exact tone, their exact order, like Hux has been practicing them for years to speak them correctly at this very moment. His tongue seems to be forming the words by itself while Hux can do nothing but let it happen.

“Kylo Ren. Remember what I told you about volition. Remember the scale pans I showed you: all that you need is right there for you to take, but all that feeds your weaknesses lies right next to it and keeps the scale balanced. I taught you how to distinguish - focus on the destination, not the fleeting promise of satisfaction. You know what happens when one side outweighs the other.”

When Hux is done, Ren only stares.

Speaking those words felt like an out-of-body experience, like Hux wasn’t the one articulating them. Except that he was.

“I sincerely hope you can make sense of this because Snoke did not elaborate. He said you’d know what he’s talking about.”

“You have contacted the Supreme Leader?”

“No.”

“Then _he_ has contacted _you?”_

“Yes.”

“Why would he not tell me this directly? Why would he reach out for _you_ instead of me?”

“Maybe because I’m the one with the clear head here. Maybe because I wasn’t busy making friends with the enemy.”

Hux wants to take it back immediately, but at the same time, he doesn’t. This is what’s been bugging him from the start and he knew that he would _have_ to confront Ren about it at some point, self-restraint aside.

Now that Ren’s eyes are already darkening and the air around them is already vibrating with his anger, it’s too late to de-escalate things anyway.

“I’m not making _friends with the enemy._ I do what needs to be done.”

“If I interpret this message I just delivered correctly, then this is what Snoke thinks, too. You’re letting yourself be distracted, you’re losing focus.”

“Do you even _hear_ yourself saying this? What I just did was necessary to get what Snoke wants-”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that getting what Snoke wants included _laughing and chatting_ with the girl that makes no secret of wanting to kill you - how could I not see how unselfishly you’re sacrificing yourself for the mission’s sake?”

“This is - you’re ridiculous. Her intentions are far from wanting to kill me, but you wouldn’t know. Frankly, I have no idea why you can’t see what I’m going through here for _the mission’s sake,_ you probably couldn’t even see it if I presented my progress to you on a silver plate. You’re blind to so many things I see, Hux, and I believe you can’t deal with the idea of being dependant on my knowledge.”

Slow, tingling heat rises to Hux’s chest and crawls up to his head, warming his face. His nails dig into his palms so tightly it hurts, but the pain can’t get through the thick curtain of Hux’s fury.

“So instead of slitting your throat like she initially planned, she wants to give you some friendly lessons? You must be _joking._ You were supposed to _kill_ her, Ren! And now you’re doing what? Exchanging childhood stories? You can’t be so stupid as to think this will work.”

Ren’s heavy frown loosens, making way for a look of disdain and arrogance.

“Hm. You really are as clueless as one can get.”

Something inside of Hux snaps.

“Don’t you think it’s curious, Ren? How Snoke isn’t contacting you, but me? How he doesn’t intervene at all, how he lets you keep a girl alive who knows about your former identity, and who is, on top of it all, a _Jedi?_ Has it occurred to you that this might be, I don’t know, some sort of _test?”_

Seconds pass in which Ren is left completely speechless - Hux can practically watch all colour drain from his face, skin a milky white. Hux’s anger however is persistent, gnawing at his insides and reminding him that he isn’t done yet.

“I for my part think the Supreme Leader would be very interested in how things are proceeding. Luckily, I’m the one who’s in touch with him.”

Ren’s eyes widen, his jaw drops. Something about his whole demeanor changes, and even though Hux can’t pinpoint exactly in which way this change manifests itself, he _can_ determine that it’s a new aspect of Ren he can’t quite grasp.

“You wouldn’t dare tell Snoke your version of this”, Ren almost whispers, “You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe I already have”, Hux lies.

He knows that Ren’s silence might be a precursor of one of the most intense outbursts he’s ever had - Hux doesn’t know in which category to put Ren’s current emotional state. If Hux didn’t know better, he’d assume Ren is disappointed. Sorrowful.

“I can’t believe you still go running to him searching for approval. I don’t know why I’m disbelieving about this at all - it shouldn’t surprise me. You’re still the same, petty simpleton you were back on the Finalizer, and you still fall at Snoke’s feet trying to outperform me even though it’s obviously no use. It’s pathetic, Hux. You’re _weak_.”

Weak.

The word tumbles around in Hux’s head, stretches until every last letter is etched into his brain.

It’s not one of Ren’s toughest blows, not a very tough blow in general either. But it switches on several alerts in Hux’s head.

If there is something he’s sworn to himself, it’s never being called weak again. He knows that his goal is an unlikely one, especially since some think it a fitting insult when they can’t think of a better one, and usually, Hux might have been able to ignore it.

The problem is that at this point, Hux considers himself the weakest he’s been in a long time. The problem is that Ren is right.

 _“You_ call _me_ weak? You, of all people? The mighty Kylo Ren who hides behind a mask. You saw me in positions of dependence and incapability now and think you know everything about me, don’t you? In truth you know _nothing._ I’d like to see you try some things I did-”

“Yes of course, I forgot. Ruthless General Hux. Snoke told me everything I needed to know about you before we even met, and I can’t recall him telling me the tale of how you slaughtered each of your classmates when you yourself were nothing but a child. But I’m sure he just left it out. I also can’t remember the story of how you killed your own-”

 _“-father?_ To be honest with you I haven’t killed him yet, Ren, but if I could, I would. And do you know in which way our murders would differ? Mine would be executed without second thought.”

Ren’s last remnants of control have slipped, meanwhile. He stares at Hux without hiding his shock, but Hux is too trapped in his wrath to notice.

“Yes, Ren! I know you killed the scoundrel that was your father, and I also know that to this day, you regret doing it because you’re too much of a _child_ to let it go. He still haunts you and you’re awful at concealing it. If anyone is weak, it’s _you.”_

It was, how Hux would later admit to himself, a lucky guess. An irrational, desperate attempt at infuriating Ren to the point where the fight would escalate and Hux would get a chance to throw a punch at him, or maybe just a nice, purposeful kick. All he knew about Han Solo’s death were rumours, and all he knew about Ren’s feelings towards it were unfounded interpretations on his part.

Hux couldn’t have possibly known that he would hit the nail on the head. He couldn’t have anticipated that Ren’s expression would turn vacant and that he’d leave on the spot, without another word.

At first, Hux had continued to stand there, panting and blood still rushing hotly through his veins. He’d considered wrecking or punching something, but regained his calm before he could lower himself like that. Had he caught a glimpse of the girl on his way back to the tent, he probably couldn’t have restrained himself from yelling at her, too.

Now, he’s sitting on his sleeping bag, fiddling with the hem of his jacket.

 _He deserved this,_ Hux keeps telling himself, _he deserved this and worse._ Though as often as he repeats this in his head, he can’t deny that this argument was different from all the others they’ve had. He guesses it’s because apparently, they decided to put aside the shallow insults this time and instead got personal straight away.

There are a lot of things for Hux to process - how exactly did they manage to take it this far? Why did Ren vanish without even trying to fight back? And when will Hux start feeling triumphant instead of nervous and confused?

What perplexes Hux most however is the way Ren accused him of still craving Snoke’s attention. _I can’t believe you still go running to him searching for approval._ Ren had said it like he would have expected Hux to act differently. Like things had _changed._

Hux’s brow creases and he angrily watches his trembling hands nearly rip off parts of the zipper.

“Nothing has changed”, he whispers to himself, wanting to believe it. He immediately feels childish.

Wherever Ren is now, Hux wants him to stay there for as long as possible. He thinks about avoiding him until he’s finished his meditation exercises with the girl. There’s no need to talk about it anyway, Hux has lost interest. Ren made it very clear that Hux is _clueless_ and of _no help,_ so he’ll stop bothering.

Air. Hux needs some fresh air.

Walking around aimlessly might be exactly what he needs to clear his head now. He can’t help but be afraid that the stress will cause another weird hallucination. He has to vent in whatever way, just to be sure he won’t get caught up in a dream he can’t escape from.

The darkness shies away when Hux lights an electric lantern. He wouldn’t actually need it, given the fact that the moonlight is even brighter now without the trees and most definitely sufficient to see his surroundings clearly. It simply gives him a fake sense of security.

Trying desperately to empty his head and rid it of anxiety and other deficiencies, Hux strolls around for a moment.

It’s not a conscious decision to go over to the cliff and down to the beach, Hux more or less lets his feet carry him there.

The entrance of the path he finds is easily overlooked in between bushes and rocks. There are stones leading downhill, looking almost like steps someone once built. It’s a lot more comfortable than the torturous climbing Hux had to do in order to get up here before the panthac attacked them.

Hux curses the beast. Without it, he wouldn’t have been injured and there would’ve been no need for Ren and him to come to the village.

Stretching out the lantern in front of him, Hux can already see parts of the bay at the end of the steps - it’s big enough to take a short walk alongside the shore, but too small to get lost anywhere.

Big rocks are scattered everywhere, yet there’s still enough sand to consider it a beach. Hux intends to find an adequate rock and sit on it for as long as it will take for his irritation to ebb away.

After walking towards the groups of rocks for a few seconds, it turns out he isn’t the only one who’s had this ingenious idea.

The first indication that Hux is not on his own is a dead log that is cut into several pieces, the gashes clean but singed-looking. Ren’s lightsaber lies in the sand next to it.

One of the rocks is already occupied and Hux turns to leave.

Then, however, he hears a sound that makes him freeze and wish he’d never come to this beach at all.

It’s a sob.

Hux’s stomach clenches when he realizes that Ren is crying, and a voice inside of him practically _screams_ at him to turn around and _leave_ as fast as he can. This is nothing Hux should watch - he should either have the decency to make his leave and forget about it or exploit this to pay Ren back for his insults from before.

Instead, Hux turns off the lantern with a _click_ and scrambles up the rock next to Ren, his jacket rustling when he sits down turned towards the sea.

The moment Hux made the first sound, Ren went completely rigid.

The tension of Ren trying to hold his breath and fight back the next sob that must be about to burst out of him is overwhelming. Ren is obviously keen on not making one further sound, and Hux imagines he’s profoundly ashamed. He shouldn’t be, after the various states of indignity he has seen _Hux_ in.

Hux isn’t planning on leaving, for some reason. He intends to wait on this rock – though what _for_ is another question entirely.

Minutes pass spent in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the sea filling the air. The sky is clear this evening, making way for the two blue moons and thousands of stars. It’s also definitely warmer than just a few hours before, Hux only now realizes. Even the one jacket he’s wearing feels too warm now.

He picks up a tiny pebble stone and examines it to distract himself from the rising nervousness he feels.

“I didn’t tell Snoke anything, if that’s any consolation.”

Ren doesn’t look up. All Hux can see from where he sits is a mass of messy, black hair, bare upper arms, a hunched back and tucked up legs. Ren looks like a ball, completely curled in on himself and taking up less space than ever.

“It doesn’t matter”, comes a voice so fragile it sounds nothing like Ren’s, “he’ll know anyway. I can’t hide anything from him.”

“What’s there to hide? You kept her alive because there was no other way, you said so yourself. We both agreed on that-”

“Don’t pretend you don’t _know,_ Hux!”, Ren practically shouts, lifting his head without turning to face Hux.

“I have already failed! The balance between light and dark the Supreme Leader believes me to maintain is _nonexistent!_  It’s not balance, it’s _indecision!”_

Hux stills each of his movements, somewhat taken aback by this outburst. He’s glad that Ren continues because he wouldn’t have known what to say.

“It started with the pura-water, I – I didn’t expect it to have any impact on me, but it reminded me that – it’s there, the light, and I can’t just switch it off whenever I please. I wanted to keep my scars as a reminder, proof of my failure and a warning to never fail again, but the water washed them away. Faults in my ability to wield the Force started to show up, and Snoke pulled away from me as a punishment. I can’t kill the girl even though she knows Ben Solo–"

Ren pauses momentarily. Hux can’t bear the shakiness of his breath.

“Why can’t you kill her, Ren?”

“She has knowledge I need-”

“Why apart from this?”

“Because”, he begins, the word feeble and broken, “because killing Han Solo left me the weakest I’ve ever been when I thought it would make me stronger. Because there are doubts stirring deep within me, doubts the Supreme Leader can never know of.”

Hux’s heart is hammering in his chest.

“You saw Han Solo, you were with me in the vision, you saw what he was like. I felt his presence the second his ship entered the atmosphere of Starkiller Base. I felt it the whole time, felt it when he was near me, avoided him on purpose. But he sought me out, my task was set, and the second he called out to me I knew he had to die. Maybe _he_ knew, too. He believed Ben to be alive until his last breath, addressed me like I was still him. Snoke promised me a surge of power, a feeling of strength flooding me the moment Han Solo’s heart would still, preparing me to become the most powerful I’ve ever been. That feeling never came.”

Even with a lot of time for preparation, Hux wouldn’t have known what to reply. The incredulity about this admission is so prominent that Hux has a hard time finding really _any_ appropriate words, until he settles for an approach that surprises even himself.

“My father never called me by my first name, so I never had that particular problem. He’s always avoided calling me Armitage – I used to think he banished it from his vocabulary, like it’s some swear word he was too embarrassed to use. I guess it wasn’t _him_ who chose that name for me. Or it was him, and I just didn’t live up to the expectations that came with it.”

Ren doesn’t reply, doesn’t even flinch. Maybe he’s wondering why Hux isn’t leaving. Even Hux is asking himself that.

“There wasn’t a gift of some kind before I left for the Academy, not even a goodbye, actually. And I didn’t expect one. That wasn’t part of the deal, I mean, that wasn’t part of my role as Brendol Hux’s son. I knew I’d see him every now and then since he ran the Academy, oversaw everything. That, however, turned out to be exactly the same as not having him around at all. He treated me like any other student, if not with even more apathy and distance – didn’t acknowledge me in the hallways, didn’t talk to me if not explicitly necessary, avoided eye contact. Within the boundaries of the Academy, I wasn’t his son.”

Hux huffs a dry laugh.

“Come to think about it, not much has changed since then. I haven't heard a word from him since his sudden disappearance. I know he wouldn't risk giving away his hiding place for a chance to give me a pat on the shoulder.”

Finally, Ren turns his head a bit, revealing reddened cheeks and hollow eyes.

“Not even after Starkiller? After the destruction of the Hosnian system?”, he asks, voice choked and clipped off.

“Starkiller Base collapsed, which can be traced back to a construction error, if I’m not mistaken. Construction is my expertise, was my area to oversee with special care. There was no reason for my father to contact me after that.”

“It was a series of events that led to its demise. Not one single design fault.”

“Shifting the blame onto the circumstances is what he would lovingly call a _disgrace._ It’s for the weak. He despises excuses.”

“Your father is an asshole.”

Hux stops for a second to suppress the amusement that suddenly bubbles up within him at Ren’s blunt statement.

“Yours was a worse one, if I may say so. From what I heard, he was an asshole _and_ dressed atrociously.”

That draws a chuckle from Ren, if only a weak one, and Hux doesn’t know what to do with the sinking feeling it causes deep in his gut. He’s never heard Ren make a sound like that before, has actually not even expected him to be capable of making it. He’s smiling before he can help it, and immediately feels Ren staring at him.

Hux swallows the lump that has unnoticeably formed in his throat, gives Ren a fleeting look. It’s enough to see that Ren’s stare is laden with something Hux can’t interpret.

It was a mistake, he thinks grimly, to come to this beach in the first place. He thinks of the first river, is reminded of the disturbed look Ren had given him, now knowing the source of his distress. Ren isn’t over it. He isn’t over anything, really. He knows what he embodies, what he unites within him, knows his own power, but can’t revel in it the way he knows he should. His family, his former self, his weaknesses, he isn’t above any of those things even if he claims otherwise. He seems to be realizing that, now that he’s far away from everything and everyone, and finds himself unable to cope with it. Maybe he’s never been able to cope with it in the first place.

 _Enough now_ _,_ Hux reprimands himself, _you’re reading too much into this._

Ren’s crying can have a lot of different causes. It might just be an overly intense knee-jerk reaction that caused this slip of control. Ren is known for his immaturity, this is probably how he usually expresses his anger when he’s not in public. Pathetic.

 _You don’t relish his tears_ _,_ Hux’s subconscious offers, _they don’t give you the satisfaction you thought they would._

Hux frowns.

_Whereas his chuckle –_

No. This isn’t conductive in _any_ way. Hux can still feel Ren’s heavy stare on him, shamelessly searching for who knows what. Maybe he’s expecting Hux to return it?

It’s an overall uncomfortable setting, a composition of elements Hux dislikes – he’s never been fond of the beach, the sea, has never enjoyed sitting on rocks or flitting them, has always despised the smell of sea grass. Yet he can’t bring himself to hate it, with Ren’s gaze keeping him fixed to his rock.

He feels inadequate, doesn’t know where the feeling came from, though he doesn’t banish it right away.

He tries not to think of Ren’s face, does so anyway.

Makes the mistake of actually turning his head to regard it.

He shouldn’t have. He’s had this – this disgusting obsession with this face already, and now that its cheeks are tinged with red, its eyes are watery and its lips are swollen Hux can’t deny that he thinks it’s – that he finds it –

It’s quite attractive.

Hux tries to fight the blood that has most likely already rushed to his face and he figures he has rarely ever been so anxious. Ren might have heard that thought. He might _know_ now. Panic drowns every other sentiment in Hux, making it harder to breathe.

“Ren”, he starts, “I need you to answer this.”

Ren blinks a few times – Hux breaking the silence so suddenly must have ripped him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Are you reading my mind? Constantly? Can you hear my thoughts like spoken words?”

Ren visibly considers his answer thoroughly, displays no sign of surprise at the question, though. Just this sense of – what? Resignation?

“There is something you need to know.”

Ren inhales carefully before he continues.

“Usually, I can. It works with everyone, especially weak-minded people. But apparently, it doesn’t work with you, not anymore. I’ve tried reading you ever since we boarded my ship. Something is – it’s like someone put sound absorbers all around you. I can hear parts, a noise from time to time, but everything that reaches me is muffled. I haven’t figured out what exactly it is, yet. Snoke might have done it, but why would he?”

Hux can’t believe his ears.

“But you- you’ve sensed things about me before, you said – “

“I lied.”

“Great. Just- excellent, Ren. I’ve wasted my time worrying about this, then.”

“You got something to hide, Hux?”

“No. I was just concerned you sensed every time I mentally strangled you.”

“I take it you think about me a lot, then?”

“I think about you lots of times, yes. And each time I find an even more thrilling way to end you and make it look like an accident.”

“Funny.”

“What’s funny?”

“Your voice indicates you’re being genuine, but your micro-expressions suggest you don’t mean it.”

Hux guesses Ren is right. A lot has happened since Hux last appreciated the idea of a dead Kylo Ren, though not much time has passed. Silence is all Hux can offer to confirm this.

“I need you to answer something too”, Ren says after realizing Hux won’t verbalize his reply.

“Who is Scott Lown?”

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Hux freezes.

Ren can’t possibly know. He can’t.

“How do you –”

“Your nightmares. The things you screamed in your sleep were mostly incoherent nonsense, just sounds of panic or anguish. But sometimes I’d catch small phrases, or words. Scott Lown was one of the most often recurring themes, and quite honestly the only name I ever understood clearly. He must be of importance to you.”

Hux doesn't miss the glint in Ren’s eyes as he speaks, or the flat and severe tone of voice. He’s just too caught up in keeping himself from having a panic attack.

“Lown was of no importance to anyone. He was nobody.”

“I don't believe you.”

 _Fine, then don’t,_ Hux thinks, but something stops him from saying it. He looks into Ren’s bloodshot eyes and remembers why he started talking about himself in the first place.

“He was a boy from my school. He was a bully.”

Hux considers skipping some parts, but Ren’s confession still hangs thickly between them and Hux feels like he hasn’t done enough to compensate for it.

“He made my life hell ever since I first saw him, ever since he knew I was the son of the most important man around. We were both excellent students, there was that kind of competition, but something else must have been fuelling his dislike towards me so intensely that he felt the need to beat me up every two days. Or have me beaten up, sometimes he had classes to attend. It was ironic, really against all stereotypes, that he excelled me in almost every class. Combat, alright, but my self-esteem really took a blow at hearing he bested me in engineering. I was a rather ambitious student, I’m proud to say that I stopped at nothing.”

“You killed him.”

“Yes. I hid his medications.”

Nobody had known about Lown’s illness. He had kept it a secret. Had the committee known about it, he wouldn’t have been allowed into the program. Hux hadn’t been surprised when he’d found out after doing some research - it was just Lown’s style. Somehow making it, somehow winging it, getting top results without much effort, disobeying the rules.

Hux is silent. He drops the pebble stone in his hand.

“But that’s not all”, Ren says.

“No.”

He’s never told anyone. Hux has often wondered why it’s giving him such a hard time, what makes it so special. Or maybe he knows, but allowing it to be true would mean he’d have to deal with it.

“No, it’s not all. It was satisfying at first. I came to his room to watch him die, I wanted him to know it was my doing. I had his pills in my hand, but by the time I arrived he wasn’t even able to get up by himself anymore. I wanted it so badly to feel good and right - the idea was, most definitely. Reality was different. There were several moments before that where he would- where he would come up to me, saying there was something he needed to tell me. I didn’t listen, and it wouldn’t have mattered if I had. He tried, one last time, when his airways were almost completely swollen shut, but again he failed to tell me his great news. An embarrassing way to die, and it fit him.”

Ren says nothing, waits. Hux is trembling involuntarily.

“When he finally shut up, I found this book that turned out to be a journal. His _diary._ He was writing in it, apparently, before he had his seizure, it lay on his bed next to a pen. The ink was bleeding into his sheets. So I grabbed it, read it, thought it would be fun to invade his privacy like that now that he wasn’t there to stop me.”

The waves of the ocean gently come and retreat, otherwise it’s silent.

“I didn’t expect nearly every page to be about me.”

Hux wishes Ren would offer some kind of comment, but has to accept that he won’t. He might be just as appalled as Hux by the fact that this conversation is actually taking place.

“He was infatuated with me and filled this book with tragic stories about how he had no idea how to cope with it. Sometimes it was just encounters he’s had with me, sometimes inner turmoils brought to paper. The book basically dripped with self-hatred.”

Squeezing his knees to still his hands, Hux stares at the flat line of the horizon until it blurs.

“Not only was he the first one I strategically killed, he was also the first one to feel this way towards me.”

“You regret it.”

“I-”

Hux suddenly wishes he’d never touched this topic. He’s already beginning to feel sick, can already feel himself losing composure.

It’s true. Hux knows why Lown is still giving him such a hard time, he knows what makes his murder special. It’s the feeling of regret Hux hasn’t felt for any of his other victims.

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

Ren isn’t calling Hux out on his lie even though it’s obvious. He just sits there, listening.

“It’s simply - unease. What’s so strange about it is that I haven’t felt it in years, and ever since we arrived here on this planet it’s creeping into my thoughts and dreams again. It’s like someone opened the door I spent _years_ closing to keep Lown out. Now everything I managed to ignore up until now comes running in, unfiltered-”

“Hux, that’s it!”, Ren suddenly blurts, startling Hux so much he almost falls off his rock.

“What?”

“Doors! Doors can be locked, all you have to do is find the right key!”

Hux blinks.

“Again, _what?”_

“It’s so simple I overlooked it. I need to talk to Khaleesa, immediately.”

“...Of course”, Hux says, “you’ve lost your mind.”

“No.”

And then, Ren flashes Hux a genuine, almost _timid_ smile, like it’s just another thing he does.

“Thank you.”

With that, he jumps off his rock and vanishes into the dark.

It’s relieving to be on his own, it’s calming not having to continue the conversation he just had, but at the same time it isn’t. Hux has no idea what to make of any of this.

“You’re welcome”, he mutters, the ocean the only one listening.

 

***

 

Hux is starting to hate the tent.

It’s not the lack of space or privacy, or the uncomfortable insulating iso mat that slowly but steadily makes his back ache. It’s rather the sense of unproductiveness that is linked to it - being in the tent equals being idle, getting nowhere, achieving nothing. It makes Hux aware that he is getting used to being here on this planet, away from his ship, his personnel and his aspiration to bring order to the galaxy.

Hux would like to know how Snoke explained Ren’s and his own absence to the crew and what he told them about when they would return. He’d give everything to know who’s in charge and what becomes of the Order’s future plans. People might be relieved to be rid of Kylo Ren - but Hux can’t imagine that the _General’s_ sudden disappearance did not cause major disorientation in some departments.

The beginnings of a disclosure came to Hux today. It’s nothing he’d call anything even close to a tactic, or even a concrete plan, but it’s an idea worth keeping in mind - maybe the construction of another super weapon isn’t the way to go. Maybe the First Order can strike the Resistance in a different way, one that takes less time and effort. Maybe there’s no need to eradicate the lot of them all at once, maybe there’s a way to make them crumble from within.

He lies down, feeling his eyelids getting heavier as he does so.

Having spent his day wandering about, taking a bath in the river, washing his clothes, looking for food but finding only brightly coloured berries and bugs, waiting for Ren to emerge from the hut and pondering his life choices, Hux feels like he’s wasting his time more than ever.

After thinking tirelessly about _doors_ and _keys_ and _barriers_ and _scratching off layers to unpack the problem,_ Hux has to admit to himself that he hates being excluded from solving this mystery. If he has already resigned himself to waiting and not recording any progress, he at least wants to help change this. Maybe his take on things and his input could contribute to accelerating the process of finding a solution.

Instead, he’s being told to keep his mouth shut about things he can’t understand and recover from the injury he already _has_ recovered from.

Ren’s condescending words float around in Hux’s head, and his thoughts wander back to him against his will, like they usually do these days.

Great, just what Hux needs now - rethinking the events of the night before.

Hux had only caught a glimpse at Ren this morning, had drowsily watched him getting ready to leave for the village. Ren had been aware of it and had paid Hux no attention, just like Hux thought he would. He’s completely fine with not being forced to have some kind of follow-up discussion, and even happier not to be burdened with the _if you tell anyone you’re dead_ intimidation speech Ren would have surely given him.

The way things developed is most worrisome. The fact that Hux opened up to Ren about Scott Lown is more or less inexcusable. Hux wishes there was a way to somehow blame it on Ren, but it’s impossible to dismiss that _he_ was the one who decided to stay and that he was also the one to spill one of his best kept secrets for reasons that have yet to reveal themselves to him.

There he lies, the miserable heap that’s left of him, wallowing in self-pity and something that might be abysmal shame.

Hux can’t bring himself to imagine what really _anyone_ he’s ever met would be thinking if they could see him now.

The spontaneous desire to go outside and watch the sunset gets a hold of Hux but is squashed by the fear of running into anyone and being forced to have any kind of social interaction.

He closes his eyes, hoping sleep will take him away before his thoughts can get out of hand any further.

Sleep does him this favor, even though a _dream_ is not quite what Hux had hoped for.

At least, it is a regular dream - Hux can tell the difference by now. While the hallucinations he’s having are comparable to a four-dimensional tour through films that are based on parts of his life, real dreams feel like Hux _created_ the world he’s moving in. The visions feel foreign, dreams and nightmares feel, if only distinctly, like his own.

For some reason, he’s nervous in this dream. Uneasy. Searching for something. _Someone._

He’s at the fireplace in the center of the village, and he doesn’t know where Ren is.

Surely, he’s in the hut opposite from Hux, meditating. It takes a few steps to get there - Hux feels the uneasiness turn into something else. Anticipation.

It’s dark inside, but Hux knows Ren is there. A few rays of sunlight creep through the tiny gaps in the wood the hut’s walls are made of, illuminating only the bare minimum.

Ren approaches him slowly, and Hux can see that his face is covered in blood. He knows it’s someone else’s.

“What did you do?”, Hux asks even though he doesn’t need to.

“I killed them.”

“Lightsaber cuts don’t spill blood.”

The dark eyes framed in brownish red remain emotionless and indifferent, but challenging nonetheless. Inviting.

Ren’s hand grabs Hux’s chin with a determination that ignites a spark of heat somewhere within him, a spark of heat he faintly knows can only be extinguished with great difficulty.

It seems like Ren has attached his stare to Hux’s pupils, making it impossible for Hux to break eye contact.

“I didn’t need my lightsaber”, Ren whispers, bringing his face closer to Hux’s, “I used my hands.”

The spark dies and becomes a flame. Hux’s knees are shaking.

Without further discussion, Ren lets go of Hux’s chin and drops to his knees with a thud.

“I won’t be using them now.”

Hux looks down at the messy black hair that is now mere inches away from his crotch and grabs a few strands to steady himself. The heat expands explosively, is smothering by the time Ren tugs at Hux’s belt.

He can’t take it, Hux very suddenly realizes, not all at once, not with Ren’s eyes still fixed to his, but he wants to, and he will -

“Say my name”, Ren demands, pulling Hux’s whole body forward until his nose touches the fly of the trousers in front of him.

Hux tries to comply but can’t seem to form the word.

“Say it.”

Hux tries again, fails again.

“Say it-”

With each attempt, the heat grows more unbearable and consuming, melting down restraint and composure to an uncontrollable mass of swirling _want,_ and when the heat is close to reaching its peak, Hux wakes up.

Disorientedly, he blinks, shifts and notices something that he hasn’t woken up to in quite a while - he’s painfully hard.

He’s about to ignore it and go back to sleep, his eyes already falling shut again.

Then, he suddenly becomes wide awake.

He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Ren is with him in the tent. His shaky breath informs Hux about his presence.

Hux’s face heats up so quickly and intensely that he thinks he might have to go outside to cool it down. Trying to lie as still as possible, Hux hopes with all his might that he didn’t talk in his sleep or that Ren’s slumber is deep enough to have missed it.

For a few moments, he thinks he might have been lucky.

However, if Hux has learned anything in his life as his father’s son it’s that there’s no relying on luck. Ever.

“You said my name”, Ren says quietly, the coarseness of his voice unmistakable in the silence of the tent.

Hux is sure he’s never come so close to suffocating. Feeling cold sweat starting to cover his forehead, he can hear his own heart thrumming. There’s no clever, elegant way out of this. He knows that whatever he’ll say now won’t make his words unheard. Hux knows that Ren will, from now on, always have something to hold over his head - something that will make people lose every last bit of respect for Hux instantly. The only chance of this not happening might be that Ren is too disgusted by it to actually make a show of it in front of others.

“Ren listen, whatever absurdities I just uttered, it’s fundamental that you know that dreams don’t always adequately portray the -”

Hux falls silent when he feels it. If it weren’t for his decidedly real shortness of breath and his fiery hot face he would have brushed it off as yet another dream.

Ren’s hand is suddenly resting on Hux’s abdomen, its coldness seeping through his shirt.

Reflexively, Hux’s own hand darts forward to grab Ren’s and keep it from whatever it’s planning to do - Hux actually startles when the wrist his fingers close around is _solid,_ proving that this hand indeed belongs to Ren and that Hux is awake.

Several awfully long seconds pass in which nothing happens. Hux’s hold on Ren’s wrist is tight and unrelenting, so much so that its blood supply must be pinched off, but it escapes Hux’s notice. His mind is so overwhelmed with all sorts of alarmed thoughts that it’s almost blank again. All he can do is obey the intuition that screams the loudest.

Which is why he loosens his grip on Ren’s hand and starts cautiously shoving it downwards.

The cold trail it leaves gives Hux goosebumps. The touch feels insecure, hesitant, but it’s enough to send all the blood from Hux’s head rushing straight to his groin. It leaves him helplessly dizzy, and while he was desperately hoping to find the right words of rejection just moments ago the loss of this hand might make him go insane now.

Hux forces himself to stay still when Ren’s hand unceremoniously slips past the waistband of his trousers, and even though each of his nerves is on edge he successfully hides how close he is to exploding.

In the far back of his mind, Hux is aware of how incredibly wrong this is, that he should intervene before anything truly reprehensible happens and that he must be out of his mind to be stooping so low.

But all these doubts are washed away the second Ren takes Hux in hand.

The shamefully fervent arousal searing through him and the shocking cold of Ren’s hand make Hux inhale sharply, his free hand starting to clutch his sleeping bag so tightly he fears he might tear it.

Languidly, Ren’s fingers stretch around the entire length of Hux, dragging and grasping and applying pressure so cautiously that Hux can only interpret it as inexperience. The thought of Ren giving in to this thing he’s never allowed himself for someone he passionately hates should be ridiculous, but in reality it almost makes Hux lose all self-restraint on the spot.

Each stroke brings Hux closer to remembering exactly whom he is dealing with, and before he can help it he’s moaning. The sound is soft, close to inaudible, but still it feels like it’s filling the tent, expanding into every last corner - all of a sudden, Ren stills his movements.

A wave of shame hits Hux the moment he realizes what’s happening, his eyes shooting open and making him wonder when he closed them. His mind frantically scrambles to put together a believable excuse to get up and leave immediately, yet before he can do so Hux feels his body being pulled backwards by invisible hands.

Back pressed flat against Ren’s warm and rapidly heaving chest, Hux has a hard time trying to stick to his plan of keeping as quiet and motionless as possible. To not only hear Ren’s breath but _feel_ it on his skin is so surreal that everything about it is almost unbearable, be it the shivers it causes to run down Hux’s spine or the vigorous heat curling in his gut.

For a few moments, Ren goes oddly rigid and Hux finds himself panicking at the idea of Ren realizing his mistake and not continuing at all.

What Ren does instead is resume his work, increasing his pace with every motion, all precision and determination suddenly. Hux can’t help but bury his face in the crease of his elbow, now outright panting.

Ren’s breath is meanwhile becoming heavy and erratic and Hux has to stifle a moan at the realization that he won’t last much longer if he continues to concentrate on the lips that are just barely brushing the nape of his neck.

It’s the sensory overload that does it for Hux - the now rapid pace of Ren’s hand, the closeness of Ren’s mouth, Hux’s imagination that offers him various ideas of how Ren has thought of doing this before, all of it sends Hux straight into a blissful state of light-headedness.

The feeling of Ren’s own erection pressing against Hux’s backside finally pushes him over the edge and he comes in his pants, shuddering and feeling like his lungs might burst at any moment.

It takes a while for Hux to compose himself. Moments in which the whole planet seems to have fallen silent pass tediously, each of them feeling like a small eternity, before the first real thought reenters Hux’s brain - _turn around. Examine Ren’s reaction._

What Hux doesn’t reckon with however is Ren hastily retracting his hand and getting up in a hurry, leaving Hux freezing after the sudden loss of contact.

“This changes nothing”, Ren hisses, and cold night air floods the tent when he practically rips open the zipper and scurries out, vanishing into the dark.

 _This changes nothing,_ Hux agrees in his head, even though he knows that Ren is wrong.

This changes everything.


	11. Chapter 11

The wind is gentle today.

Gentle in a way that predicts more intense wind gusts and rain to come.

Hux has left the tent this morning with a sense of unfamiliar optimism - it’s been three days since he last exchanged words with Ren, three days and a few hours to be precise, and Hux can’t say he minds.

Actually, as he sits at the edge of the cliff in between rocks and a strange sort of fern that pricks his ankles like tiny needles, he finds that both his mental and his physical condition have improved greatly.

Just yesterday, he resumed exercising. Back in his old life he used to exercise regularly, three times a week, sometimes four. Working on the Starkiller had consumed much time which had restricted him to working out once or twice a week at most, but it was still a habit of his, one he only now realized he needed to stay sane. So he put on light clothes, went looking for a more or less clean and even spot and started his routine, punishing himself with an extra exercise whenever his thoughts would wander back to Ren. Only when he woke up staring at the trees above him after passing out, pulse hammering and vision blurry, did he realize that he must have gone a tad too far.

It had helped clear his mind a bit nonetheless, and he’d planned to do it again as soon as possible.

Except for his mind’s tireless occupation with a man who wouldn’t look his way if he jumped down the cliff screaming, Hux feels mostly empty.

He finds himself not minding anymore. He’s stopped minding the tent, has stopped minding the cold, the lack of food, the feeling of being stuck, the desire to be back on the Finalizer. He’s deeply convinced that at some point he’ll stop minding Ren as well.

Giving up on offering his help concerning the search of the temple isn’t easy, and Hux isn’t sure he can give up on it completely yet. Last time he heard Ren and the girl discussing it, they were talking about how they were halfway done. If that had been true, Hux figures it wouldn’t have taken them three additional days to work on a solution.

Then again, Hux’s mind is _too simply built_ to grasp the supernaturally intricate ways of the Force.

Hux knows he’s being petty, stubborn, immature, all sorts of attributes he’d never thought he’d ever apply to himself. He can’t help it - this place changed him, took something from him and replaced it with weaknesses that now control him.

In an attempt to eradicate Ren from his mind, he’s spent his three days of silence with an assembly of facts.

Hux is stuck on this planet because of his orders from Snoke, which instruct him to spy on Ren. He has done that, but has stopped doing it three days ago after his and Ren’s spontaneous engagement in indecent activities. Furthermore, Hux has not given a single complete and truthful report to Snoke since the day he set foot on this planet. Intermediate result: first and main task performed poorly. His only hope is his second task, whose execution will eventually depend on various factors Hux has no influence on - kill Ren in case he fails his final mission, in case he’s unable to retrieve whatever he needs to retrieve from the temple. Hux has not put much effort into figuring out a way to do that, even though he can be sure now that Ren has no idea about what is going on in Hux’s head.

Next time Snoke summons him, he will ask questions. There will be no wasting time stammering or standing frozen to the spot, shivering with respect. There will only be straightforwardness and precision.

Hux wants to know what exactly Ren will have to get from the temple and why Snoke wants it, whether it will be helpful to the Order or whether it’s for Snoke’s personal gain. He wants to know why he refuses to contact Ren, why he can’t help him remove this barrier so they can move on. It is in Snoke’s interest after all. He wants to know how his crew is doing, wants to know what the Resistance is doing, what the Republic is doing after they figuratively got their head cut off.

Not only is he not informed about what’s happening outside the boundaries of this planet, Hux also doesn’t have the slightest clue about what’s happening right in front of his nose. It’s the feeling of general cluelessness that gets to him the most.

The sea starts rousing, the waves start growing in height. Hux’s gaze roams along the line of the dreary horizon.

He _could_ try to talk to Ren, he _could_ ignore the many ways in which it’s against his nature to go and be the first one to yield.

But Hux thinks that there’s a different approach that would be much more to his liking.

The urge to get up is spontaneous and Hux gives in to it immediately. It doesn’t matter that he can’t talk to Ren - he’s not the only one who has answers to Hux’s questions.

Ahni Khaleesa might be a mind-reader, a skilled force user and a clever talker, but she is also vulnerable in ways Hux knows exactly how to exploit. He’s reached most of his goals by doing exactly this - finding weak spots and hitting them until they bleed.  

He will reach his current goal like this as well.

His quick walk becomes a jog. The sudden motivation feels alien - it’s a long forgotten sentiment after all. Now it’s gripping Hux and pulling him towards the village.

 _They will see what comes of leaving me running in the dark,_ Hux thinks to himself, anger mixing with a spark of excitement.

 

***

 

The warm, stale air in the hut fills Hux’s lungs as he calmly takes a breath. He sneers in distaste, wondering whether he should turn around and leave again.

The lights are so dim that Hux has to concentrate in order to see Khaleesa sitting on the floor, facing away from him.

“Kylo Ren is not here.”

“Good”, Hux replies softly, “it’s not him I’m looking for.”

Her robes rustle and the wood beneath her feet creaks when she gets to her feet, turning around to look at Hux.

“Oh?”, she says lightly, and Hux detects mockery.

“You seem surprised.”

“Well. Your fixation on him must have come to an end, I assume.”

“If you’re trying to unsettle me, you will have to try harder. Choose a subject I am not indifferent about.”

She seems to be keeping herself from laughing, which results in a weirdly gentle half-smile.

“I’ll remember that. What do you want?”

“I know you two have been spending a great deal of time together, working on finding a solution, which means there should be some sort of result by now. I wanted to ask for an update. I’m part of the mission, too.”

“You want to know how he’s doing.”

“I want to know _what exactly_ it is that takes so long to be figured out. I want to know when we’ll finally move on.”

“Why don’t you go ask him?”

“I’m not asking _him_ because I believe _you_ to be more competent. I believe your insight is more detailed, your view is less narrow and, most of all, your abilities are perfectly intact and you seem emotionally stable.”

“Though I’m flattered”, she replies flatly, her eyes unimpressed, “I feel like I shouldn’t reveal knowledge Kylo Ren obviously doesn’t trust you with. I don’t know much about the two of you or your personal history, so I’m staying out of whatever it is you have with him.”

“Listen.”

Hux approaches her, now knowing which path he’ll have to take here.

“Listen, I - Khaleesa. I’m slowly but steadily losing my mind here. I was forced to come along, to be part of this mission, to not only accompany but _help_ a man that hates me with his whole being and does _everything_ to let me know he doesn’t trust me. I, too, have my orders, but not being able to follow them is my most insignificant problem - I’m going insane waiting for results. This is my personal hell, every day has been torture so far and as though it isn’t unnerving enough to be clueless about what’s happening at home, I don’t even know what’s happening _here, within my own head._ This planet did something to me, and I just want it to be over.”

As expected, Hux watches her face change from mock-amused to skeptical to concerned, and he knows exactly that she is picturing him the way he looked when she first saw him - body shattered, legs struggling to carry the weight of him, eyes tired and empty from all the suffering.

Hux isn’t sure whether Khaleesa knows who he is or what he’s done - but he doubts that she would give him this pitying look if she knew that he ordered the destruction of five planets.

“We’re almost done”, she suddenly says, “and… what I had to teach him took a lot of time, I’m aware of that. But there were a lot of things he didn’t know about himself - or did know, but didn’t want them to be true. The conditions under which I taught him were - let’s say they were as bad as they could get, and that’s why it took so long for me to get through to him.”

Hux studies her expression.

“What is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s the matter? Something is obviously wrong and you’re trying to hide it from me.”

She straightens her back and her eyes meet Hux’s.

“I don’t have the right to tell you. It would be wrong.”

“Where is he? Right now?”

“With my grandmother. She’s doing what I lack the experience for.”

Hux’s mind reels. He had expected her to spill a secret or two, maybe go on about how she’s sorry for him or tell him a few anecdotes about what it was like to have Ren as a classmate. But he wouldn’t have anticipated to be left with the feeling that something is inherently _wrong._ Anxiety bubbles up within him. This is not how he had hoped this conversation to develop.

“I need to know.”

“You seem to forget”, she says with her voice raised, “that the reason I’m still helping you is that I want to stay alive. Ren’s most convincing argument is, unfortunately, that he’ll kill me if I don’t obey. He would most certainly take that into consideration if I told you.”

“Oh _please,_ don’t give me that story.”

“What?”

“You’ve lost everything because of him. You’ve been on the run for _years_ because of him. Your rage must be unbearably consuming - and not only are you angry, you’re also clever and skilled. This combination is deadly, even if your opponent happens to be Kylo Ren. I’ve seen how easily you held him back, how you read his mind like it’s nothing, how you manipulated him.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m implying that your fear of Ren is not your motive for helping us, and I suggest that you let me in on this little secret or otherwise you can trust me to go into the matter with the greatest possible effort. I’ll tell him my theory, he’ll believe me and you will be dealt with.”

“How dare you threaten me..?”

“This is not a threat. It’s a promise.”

Khaleesa remains surprisingly calm and Hux wonders whether she’s going to attack him. Yet all she does is stand rooted to the spot, staring at Hux with a tense jaw.

“It’s not a secret between me and him. It’s… an observation I made while I was roaming around inside of his head, and I think he doesn’t know what I’m suspecting. If you went and gave him even the slightest hint about it I couldn’t predict his reaction. The only thing I know for sure is that it wouldn’t end well.”

“Do you think I’m mental? I’ve had to deal with him for years now and I know which buttons to push and which buttons to leave alone. If you leave me with this half-knowledge it will be harder for me to conceal my suspicion, so inform me properly.”

Hux has the urge to tell her that Ren couldn’t read his mind even if he wanted to anyway, but somehow he feels it would be better to keep it to himself.

He then decides to give her his well practiced look of authority, a look that makes his subordinates shrink and wish they’d stayed in bed that morning. Without actually expecting it to work, he sees it take its effect on her.

“Kylo Ren is a sad and pathetic being.”

Hux blinks.

“That’s your observation? I could have told you.”

“I’m afraid I can’t joke about this. It serves him right, in my opinion, but I don’t find it particularly funny either.”

It would be very tempting to roll his eyes, but Hux knows he’ll be better off rolling his eyes mentally.

“He’s broken. Ruptured. Ripped apart and inexpertly pieced together again, like someone made him their own personal puzzle and forcefully tried to combine pieces that obviously didn’t match. Some pieces were taken from him completely and left holes, some smaller, some bigger ones. It doesn’t take much expertise to see that his current self is somebody else’s construction.”

Against his own expectations, Hux feels even uneasier than before. He’s always suspected these things, Ren is Snoke’s apprentice after all. Hux always knew that Snoke must have modified Ren in some way, to make him as strong as he is. But for some reason, he’s never considered it brainwashing. The idea that Snoke forced himself on Ren or that Snoke damaged Ren to reconstitute him to his liking never even crossed Hux’s mind, and realizing this feels like a punch to the gut. The image of Ben sitting on a couch with his mother and father pressed against him on either side pops up in his head.

Hux should have known.

“Kylo Ren is the creation of someone. I believe his creator to be his Master. When I called him Ben he told me that Ben was dead, and that it was Kylo Ren who killed him. He killed his former self... and I thought that was metaphorically speaking. Exploring his mind however revealed that this is _exactly_ what his Master made him do - I’m not sure how he did it, but he made Ben eliminate parts of himself. Meaning he visited some of his own memories as Kylo Ren and killed whoever and whatever lived in them, I suppose. Only a very powerful being could do that to another. I’m not saying that Ren can’t be blamed for anything he’s done, because you have to at least agree at some point to have it done to you, but his life doesn’t entirely belong to himself.”

“So all Ren did was let his Master in? Are you saying he doesn’t want to do any of the things he does?”

“No, that’s only partially true. He _believes_ to want to do the things he does, because the counterarguments are inaccessible for him. Think of the puzzle. Many pieces are missing or blurry or hidden behind doors his Master built, and Ren never even thought of opening them because he wasn’t given the keys. He was taught that the absence of these pieces was for his own protection and the development of his powers. There is a huge flaw in this technique, however.”

Hux waits in anticipation, trying to keep up with her allegory.

“Some pieces weren’t removed correctly. Let me explain it like this: There are light pieces from his past that have always been part of him, dark pieces that have always been part of him and even darker pieces that were added by his Master. The amount of light and dark pieces is roughly the same, though the dark ones dominate because they take in more space. Now some pieces don’t fit at all - but there are also pieces that fit _shape-wise,_ but not _content-wise._ They’re opposites, they don’t match, but they’re forced to work together. The result is an immense instability, and the holes that were left completely empty only add to the fragility of the construction.”

“Are you saying Ren is in danger of collapsing?”

Khaleesa pauses, her eyes meeting Hux’s after having avoided them for the past minutes.

“Maybe not to the point of physical weakness, but his mind might overload and break at any second, yes. His Master may have created a perfect warrior, but he also created an inoperative human being. He seems to have ignored that only one of these two can exist at a time. I assume he was striving for some sort of balance, but he failed. The constant conflict in Ren’s head is a burden he won’t be able to carry much longer - I can barely comprehend how he even managed to carry it for so long.”

Hux’s throat is dry. He swallows, making it worse.

“So?”

“Ren’s actions are unpredictable. No one can tell when exactly he’ll crack, but it can’t be long. He feels this, and he might not… he might not want to go on like this.”

Thinking about how daft he must be looking right now, Hux blinks and tries to control his face. If Khaleesa is telling him what he _thinks_ she’s telling him, he has a huge problem.

“You think he’s - you think he’ll -”

“I don’t know. His motivation to finish the mission seems to keep him going at the moment, but as I understand it, you’re not the only one who’s gone through hell on this planet. I know what needs to be done, you’re searching for a Jedi temple you’ll have to retrieve something from. I can help Ren find access to his own abilities, I can help him figure out the way, but I can’t tell if he’ll get there.”

“What do you propose? What should I do?”

“You should do nothing, just like I told you. I didn’t even mean to let you in on this.”

“And yet you did.”

She inhales pointedly, probably wondering whether she should continue talking.

“I think you have more influence on him than you realize.”

“And I think you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m trying to think of better ways to put it, but nothing seems to summarize it accurately. So. You’re part of the problem.”

Hux frowns.

“How? He never seemed particularly vulnerable to my tauntings.”

“It’s not that. Apparently, his attitude towards you has changed in a way he can’t quite grasp and he has a hard time processing it. It gets very blurry and messy from that point on, but I could feel that he’s working on forgetting about something-”

“Alright, enough”, Hux interrupts, wanting to exit this situation on the spot, “Thank you for letting me know. Ren will never find out you did.”

“Keep your distance”, she adds, her voice suddenly louder and clearer than before, “and let him recover from whatever happened between the two of you. He has enough on his plate already, and if you want to make it to the temple alive you should make sure his condition improves. Help him regain focus and and remember what you’re here for.”

Hux tenses. Her last words send familiar shivers down his spine.

“Excuse me - what did you say?”

“I think you understand. Stay away from him unless he requires your help concerning the mission, then you’ll be able to move on soon.”

For a split-second, Hux believes to see something sinister spark up in her eyes - it’s strange and doesn’t match the rest of her appearance, but it’s there, taking over her face for the shortest moment. Not only does it make her look weirdly old and experienced, it makes her look _menacing,_ but the moment passes as quickly as it started.

Hux stares at the girl in front of him, waiting for the spark to reappear. Nothing happens.

“I understand”, Hux says after clearing his throat, “Thank you for updating me. I appreciate it.”

With that, Hux leaves the airless hut, not looking back once until he reaches the borders of the village.

Only when he sits down on a patch of grass close to the tent does he realize how much the conversation drained him, and he takes a deep, refreshing breath.

Hux can’t decide which aspect of this little chat disturbs him most - the subtle threat to stay away from Ren, the mischievous glint in Khaleesa’s eyes or the fact that Ren might be suicidal.

He has to see firsthand just how severe Ren’s condition really is, has to personally check whether what Khaleesa just told him is the truth or simply a huge pile of insolent lies. He’s trusted her at no point, why would he trust her with this?

 _Because it makes sense,_ a part of Hux whispers, _because Ren is a mess and you should have stayed away from him in the first place._

It’s that easy. He and Ren could revert to not interacting at all, Hux could go back to enjoying Ren’s misery and Ren could go back to laughing at Hux’s weaknesses.

 _There’s just one problem with that,_ Hux’s inner voice remarks, and the subsequent thought, the answer to this, comes promptly and clearly -

Hux cares.

He knows that denying this won’t work any longer. Hux cares about what happens to Ren, cares about what Ren says, feels, thinks, cares about whom he interacts with. If Ren were to head for the temple alone and leave Hux on his own, Hux would care. If Ren were to break apart, Hux would care.

If Ren were to take his life, Hux would care.

The understanding of this is so plain, so elementary, even strangely _convincing,_ and yet Hux’s stomach clenches and his hands start trembling again at the thought that this sentiment might be real.

He looks up and a fat raindrop hits his forehead.

Maybe he shouldn’t check on Ren and let the old Mirialan take care of him. It might be best if Hux stayed in the tent like he did for the past three days and waited for Ren to have his enlightenment, to then accompany him to the temple with the barest minimum of verbal exchange.

And as though fate spied on Hux’s thoughts and decided to play a trick on him, Hux hears footsteps behind him and knows just by the sound of them that they belong to Ren.

Fine, then Hux can just as well confront him to gather hints about his current state.

At turning around and seeing Ren’s face however, every single one of his carefully picked questions evaporates instantly.

Ren looks like he’s seen death. His eyes are glassy and sunken in, his skin is even paler than usual. Hux would have thought it impossible to not wear _any_ kind of expression, even an _indifferent_ face is expressing indifference - but Ren’s face is the epitome of blank.   

As if to undermine Hux’s thoughts, Ren doesn’t so much as glance in his direction. He doesn’t seem to notice Hux sitting there at all, goes straight for the tent with that sick, distant look in his eyes. Like a walking corpse Ren drags himself past Hux and slowly but determinedly opens the zipper of the tent without saying a word.

“So. I take it greetings are non-scheduled inconveniences now?”, Hux snaps, feeling stupid.

No reaction.

He hears Ren rummaging in his bag.

“Talking in general, then? Unfortunate. I just had an interesting chat with the girl.”

Ren emerges from the tent, now with his lightsaber in hand. He still doesn’t provide any kind of answer.

“Ren, this won’t work in the long run.”  

Ren, in turn, continues to say nothing. Instead, he turns and starts walking away from the tent and away from the village. Away from a flabbergasted Hux.

“Ren!”

Hux gets up hastily. He will not stand for this.

He stretches out his hand, grabs Ren by the shoulder, turns him around almost forcefully.

Ren lets it happen, stands frozen to the spot, stares right through Hux.

“What’s wrong with you? What happened in there?”

Hux waves his hand in front of Ren’s eyes, but they don’t react to the motion.

It’s almost contagious - Ren is shrouded in an aura of languidness, and it doesn’t fit him at all. This complete lack of will is frightening in a way a fit of rage could never be.

“None of your business", Ren finally murmurs, voice raspy and quiet like he’s just slept for a few days straight.

“You should get some rest.”

“We should leave soon”, Ren says monotonously, “should find the temple. Find what we need to find. Hand it to the Supreme Leader.”

“Where are you going…?”

“I’m tired. I’m taking a break.”

Ren gives a slight jolt as if to free himself from Hux’s grip and leave, but Hux is faster. Without thinking, Hux grasps Ren’s shirt with both his hands and keeps him from moving. Then Hux grabs his chin, turns it in his direction. Ren’s head sways slightly from the movement, all of him still looks lifeless, but something in his eyes changes.

“Ren. _What_ did they say to you.”

Suddenly, Ren’s pupils are released from their fixation, and Ren starts searching Hux’s face. He looks like he’s only now starting to notice Hux’s presence, and his eyes get progressively wider. Doubt spreads across his face, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Let go, Hux. I’m fine.”

“Yes, obviously”, Hux hisses, trying hard not to get angry.

“I’ve been meditating a lot lately and it’s been mentally exhausting. I was just lost in thought. I’m going out for a walk, so-”

Ren stops at seeing the look on Hux’s face, which he imagines to be a disturbing mixture of fury and concern.

Disorientation briefly crosses Ren’s face, then he shakes Hux off.

“Actually, I don’t owe you an explanation”, he snaps, turns around and leaves.  

Without turning his head, Ren adds a rushed “We’re leaving at dawn” and vanishes behind a group of rocks.

Confusion doesn’t even come close to the feeling Hux is left with, and as though the image of him standing there isn’t pathetic enough as it is, it starts raining properly.  

Ren has never behaved like this before. Hux remembers how he used to mysteriously disappear for days, sometimes weeks back on the Finalizer, nobody but Hux knowing it was for _training purposes._ After returning from whatever Snoke did with him, Ren would usually remain uncharacteristically silent for a few days - Hux would always look forward to these training sessions because they meant precious moments of peace, while Ren was gone as well as right after he’d come back.

But now it seems like Ren is jumping back and forth between several personas, and none of them appears to be a sane human being.   

Hux is so baffled that he momentarily ignored the fact that Ren just announced the date of their departure. They’ll finally _leave,_ and they’ll be leaving _at dawn_ already. He wouldn’t have expected this moment to come so quickly now after all the tiresome waiting he’s done, but he can’t say he minds the haste. For all Hux cares, they could pack their things and leave right this instant.

He rushes into the tent and closes the zipper behind him. It feels good when he starts stuffing all his belongings into his bag, not even caring to fold them neatly or worry about the order he’s putting them in - it’s satisfactory to close the bag after he’s done and stare at it.

But Hux can’t make the feeling last. Somehow he knows that things will only get harder from that point on and that there is a lot of trouble waiting ahead.


	12. Chapter 12

It’s hard to see clearly in the darkness of the woods, but Hux doesn’t need to _see_ what’s happening to understand it.

“I’ll take care of him, then we’ll leave”, one voice says.

“Good”, says another.

“He won’t like it”, says the first voice.

“He’d have to be alive to not like it”, says the other.

It’s like Hux is standing right next to Ren and Khaleesa, but he can’t really locate them. The words are stuck in his throat.

“What do you say, Hux?”, Khaleesa addresses him, and Hux feels a hand resting on his shoulder.

He’s panic-stricken for some reason. He turns around to find no one standing behind him.

“Wouldn’t you deem it adequate? Sacrificing yourself for the mission’s sake? Since you’re part of the problem.”

Even if he could talk, Hux wouldn’t know what to reply.

“Your silence means consent”, Ren says determinedly, voice strangely out of character.

It’s almost tempting to just let it happen and give up, and if that wasn’t so completely and utterly against Hux’s nature, he might consider it. But Hux struggles, tries once more to express any sort of protest, even if he feels at the bottom of his heart that it’s futile.

“Doesn’t matter”, Ren says as though in reply to something, “While you’re sleeping, we’re already on our way.”

That forces Hux to wake up.

He finds himself sitting upright in the tent, disrupting its peaceful quiet with his harsh and erratic breaths.

A nightmare, he slowly but steadily realizes, and it takes a few minutes for his body and mind to relax.

The urge to get up and look for Ren is strong, but Hux stays where he is - if his nightmare actually had anything to do with reality, he wouldn’t have woken up at all. This dream felt like one of his own, and not like it’s been meddled with.

Paranoia has taken a hold of him, has been pulling him into its depths over the past days, at a speed so carefully slow that Hux would only know he’s been swallowed when it’s too late.

And there he sits, realizing it’s too late.

His blood is constantly bubbling, his hands constantly nervous, his stomach constantly clenching, the tiniest inconveniences are torture for his senses. It’s some sort of hypersensitivity and an extreme awareness of everything that happens within his own mind, possibly the result of spending too much time on his own.  

The worst thing is not the physical exhaustion, though - it’s his own acceptance, his tolerance towards it.

Hux gets up and out of the tent.

The smell of wet grass greets him and the air is foggy. He looks around - no sign of Ren.

Not caring to put on a raincoat, Hux makes for the village, the grass squeaking beneath his boots with every step. _It’s the day of your departure,_ says a voice in his head and repeats it until Hux realizes that this fact is supposed to be uplifting. They’ll move on very soon, will leave this damned place and its damned people behind.

_So why are you still anxious?_

Hux knows exactly why. Nothing has turned out to be easily dealt with on this planet, and simply moving on to retrieve Snoke’s object of desire from the temple would be too good to be likely.

Plus, something has happened to Ren. Something has been done to him, and Hux is yet to find out what exactly it is. Whatever these women did to make him act like a living corpse, Hux will investigate and make it undone.

The thought that they might be making Ren suffer at this very moment quickens Hux’s steps, making him almost slip on the dewy grass.

When he reaches the gate, he’s relieved to find that his search for Ren has come to an early end - Hux can already spot him in the distance. He appears to be listening to an animatedly babbling Khaleesa.

Before Hux can decide to sneak up on them and eavesdrop, Khaleesa turns her head and spots him from afar.

Hux sighs internally and approaches them. Unsurprisingly, both her and Ren are silent when he reaches them.

“Armitage Hux.”

Hux is briefly irritated by Khaleesa addressing him like that as he can’t remember introducing himself to her, but shrugs it off when he realizes that Ren might have told her his name at some point.

“I hate to interrupt, but if we want to move on, I suggest we do it soon”, Hux says, skipping the formalities.

“Oh, you’re not interrupting at all. As it happens, we were just saying farewell. Isn’t that right, Kylo Ren?”

Her gaze and Hux’s shift to Ren simultaneously.

Ren’s gaze, meanwhile, is directed at something Hux knows isn’t actually there - it’s unfocused, expressionless, transfixed. Ren’s eyes are open, but Hux knows they’re not seeing.

He seems to have slipped into this trance-like state once again, and something inside of Hux aches at the sight of it.

When Ren’s mouth opens to form a reply, it looks out of character.

“Yes. Farewell.”

Hux’s jaw involuntarily tenses as he watches Khaleesa extend a hand and place it on Ren’s shoulder.

“I’m confident you are going to succeed. You know your place now, and you have all it takes to reach your goal. Remember - even though the reality of it is hard sometimes - some things are just not meant to be.”

She gives Ren a smile so broad it makes Hux’s stomach turn.

There’s something about her that makes Hux itchy, something that bothers him about her that has nothing to do with his obvious dislike towards her.

Ren returns neither gaze nor gesture, just stands and stares.

“Thank you for your gracious guidance”, Ren mumbles, seemingly forcing himself to look at her, “I might have chosen the wrong path without you.”

She waves her hand in playful dismissal.

“It’s nothing. Just make sure you’re staying focused, you surely are more skilled than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Ren nods. Nothing about his expression changes.

Khaleesa turns to face Hux. Her rigid hand remains glued to Ren’s shoulder.

“I am sure that you too will find your way, Hux. I sense that you have a part to play.”

Hux is reluctant to thank her, or exchange really any departing words, but just because he’s lost his mind, doesn’t mean he’s lost his manners.

“I appreciate your concern. Thank your grandmother again on my behalf, for piecing me back together again. Excuse my impertinence, but where is she?”

Khaleesa’s face freezes.

“She’s resting.”

Hux studies her reaction, but doesn’t falter.

“Well, then. I trust you’ll send her my regards. Goodbye, Ahni Khaleesa.”

His eyes flick over to Ren, and Hux is taken by surprise when the pair of dark eyes he was looking for is already fixed on him. The eyes he finds himself staring into are so distant that Hux wonders whether they’re even making sense of what they’re seeing.

“Shall we?”, Hux asks, still searching the pitch black pupils for a hint of life.

And then, as though struck by lightning, Ren storms off without a word.

Hux follows him, as if that’s just the way things are.

 

***

 

Being on the move should feel better.

It should feel liberating and productive, like Hux’s countless fantasies had made him believe - the contented feeling of getting something done should outweigh every other sentiment and motivate Hux beyond imagination.   

Turns out walking is as much motivating as is wasting away in the tent.

Hux is glad to have changed into his green uniform again before departing. It makes him feel like he’s developing towards his former self again - no wounds that hinder him and clothes that radiate confidence and power instead of exposure and vulnerability.

The same can be said for Ren, who has cloaked himself in parts of his old robes, leaving the barest minimum of skin visible.  

The muddy ground gives a squelching sound each time one of Hux’s boots sinks into it. There’s a small forest ahead of them, which is the cause for this change of terrain.

Hux doesn’t mind that it has started raining again. He wouldn’t even mind that Ren hasn’t said a single word since they left the village, if it weren’t for the persistent feeling that something is terribly amiss.

Ren’s strides are monotone, almost droid-like, and nothing about his movements or facial expressions suggests that he’s mentally present. Even his silence doesn’t feel deliberate, but more like there’s nothing he could say if he wanted to.

Hux tolerates it for a while. He’s still latently angry with Ren, but doesn’t feel like Ren is capable of understanding why, presently. Hux doubts he’d bring it up even if he was.

In moments of carelessness - like this one right now - Hux’s thoughts shift back to the feeling of his back pressed against Ren’s chest. Every inch of his skin Ren touched burns at the memory and all Hux can do is wait it out defenselessly. Even though Hux would never want Ren to speak of it again, he can’t help his irritation at seeing that Ren is obviously indifferent about all of it. It’s unfair that Ren gets to be troubled by other, more important things while Hux is tortured by the mere thought of lips brushing his neck.

If Hux stopped and stayed behind right this instant, he doubts Ren would even notice.

“Alright, enough of this”, Hux suddenly blurts out, disrupting the dull march of their trudging feet.

He doesn’t expect a reaction, so he isn’t surprised when he doesn’t get one.

Hux quickly catches up with Ren, passes him and comes to a halt right in front of him, blocking his path.

Ren looks displeased with the interruption, but at least comes to a halt as well. Hux guesses Ren could have just as easily pushed him out of his way.

“Keep moving, Hux.”

“No, _Ren”,_ Hux mimics Ren’s tone, “not until you’ve told me what’s going on. You can’t expect me to stand back and watch while you’re becoming this… this-”

“I will soon be at the height of my powers. The only thing I’m becoming is more powerful. No one will stand in my way.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t think you understand. _No one_ includes you.”

Hux doesn’t want to be taken aback, and yet he is. He won’t allow Ren to talk to him like that, not when he can’t even look Hux in the eye while doing so.

“You don’t look very powerful to me, Ren, or like you’ll be very powerful soon. You look sick and worn out. What did you have to do in order to get what you needed?”

“I was set back on the right path. I’m starting to feel like the same should have been done with you. While you’re racking your brain over things that are of no concern to you, we’re losing precious time.”

And right then, Hux begins to understand that this simple statement does something to him that not a single one of Ren’s many insults could make him feel - he’s hurt.

It’s this sentiment that causes Hux to forcefully grab Ren by the collar of his robes, the way he did the last time he found Ren in this state. Hux was able to get him out of it once, so he’ll get him out of it a second time. He doesn’t know what _exactly_ it was that brought focus back into Ren’s eyes then, but Hux remembers that _his_ eye-contact and _his_ words were essential to it. Ren’s revival was a reaction to Hux’s presence. Hux can feel his heartbeat speeding up.

“I thought we were past this”, he hisses, giving Ren a brisk, rough shake, “I thought you knew by now that we’d both profit of not keeping secrets when it comes to the mission. Let me help, you know I can.”

From an outsider’s point of view, Ren could be returning Hux’s look, but Hux is looked through, not looked at. Ren doesn’t talk back, only endures whatever Hux is saying or doing.

Hux’s right hand lets go of Ren’s collar and grabs his jaw instead.

“Tell me about her lessons. Tell me about the information you’ve gained, about where we’re headed, about what’s bothering you, about what you’ve had for breakfast, I don’t care as long as you’re telling me something new. _Talk_ to me.”

“Leave it be. Get out of my way.”

Hux’s grip on Ren’s jaw tightens. Anger builds up in his chest, his eyes narrow.

“No.”

The air is pushed out of Hux’s lungs when all of a sudden he feels his body flying backwards, rucksack rattling when it vehemently collides with a nearby tree. It softens the impact, but does nothing to reduce the shock that keeps Hux momentarily paralyzed.

Ren is in his face so quickly that Hux has no chance of escaping him. When Hux looks up, Ren’s face is closer than it’s ever been before, so close Hux’s eyes can’t properly bring it into focus anymore. Hux feels Ren’s hands digging into the collar of his uniform, clenching it so hard that Hux has trouble breathing.

This behaviour should indicate that Ren is feeling some kind of emotion, but his eyes are still dead when Hux searches them.

“You’re a _fool_ to believe you can help me”, Ren barks, grip tightening further.

The lack of air is starting to make Hux dizzy, but he will neither panic nor back down. There’s not much time to ponder over what possibilities Hux has, but he quickly realizes that he doesn’t actually need time to consider every possible reaction he could come up with.

Ren has obviously been fed many lies, not only recently during his time spent with the Mirialan women, but throughout his whole life. So what he needs in order to get back in touch with reality must be some sort of _truth_ to cling to.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Hux lifts his hand without thinking. He brings it to the right side of Ren’s head, feeling strands of hair slipping through his outstretched fingers as he tentatively applies pressure there.

Waiting for a reaction in anticipation, Hux lets his hand remain there for a moment. It’s now half hidden from sight by Ren’s hair and just barely cupping his ear.

Ren miraculously allows Hux’s hand to wander down to his neck, allows it to rest there, allows Hux’s unsteady fingers to feel the thrum of his pulse.

The strain on Hux’s windpipes starts easing.

It’s not enough - Hux can feel Ren calming, can take a closer look at Ren’s face when he starts withdrawing just slightly, but it’s not enough. Not enough for Ren to be ripped out of his trance and, how Hux suddenly comes to realize - not enough for Hux, as well.

Hux’s thumb slides upwards, passes Ren’s jawline, follows an invisible trace on Ren’s cheek.

How could Hux possibly fight this notion when it proves to be so efficient? It’s Ren’s fault - Hux curses him silently for making it so easy. By the time Hux’s thumb is pressed lightly to Ren’s cheekbone, he’s beyond questioning his own motives. It’s a mad thing to do, no matter the circumstances.

“I know you could kill me right here, right now, and still I’m not afraid.”

“Your lack of fear towards me will no longer irritate me like it used to. I will teach you to fear me”, Ren says, voice free of emotion.

“You misunderstand”, Hux replies calmly, feeling like his mind is on autopilot, “I’m not trying to irritate you, like I used to. I’m trying to tell you that there is no fear in me that could make me abandon you and leave you to yourself. I’m not afraid of who you are, who you were or who you might become, it’s inconsequential to me. Admittedly, there are quite a few things I dread, one of which being whatever waits for us at the end of this mission, but _you_ are not among them. I won’t run from you, and if I do, it won’t be fear that drives me.”

Hux’s chest hurts from forcing his breathing to remain even. He waits, refusing to believe that he just said that aloud and to Ren’s face.

Yet he decides that it’s worth it when Ren blinks, once, twice, then his eyelids outright flutter shut. He looks strained for a short while, like he’s having a bad dream. Hux can see his irises moving frantically beneath his eyelids.

When Ren opens his eyes again, they’re glassy. They’re filled with deep, watery sorrow, and Hux is equally startled and relieved.

Following Ren’s agitated eyes, Hux has the sudden urge to help Ren make sense of this situation, though he doesn’t know how. He can’t even begin to imagine what’s going on inside of Ren’s head right now, at seeing Hux’s face so close to his own, at feeling Hux’s hand on his cheek, at feeling himself tearing up.  

For a few, brief seconds, it seems like Ren is considering to keep standing there as his eyes scan Hux’s face and his hands give Hux’s collar a slight tug, but then he takes two hasty steps back. Hux lets his hand drop back to his side, waiting for Ren’s mind to adjust to its newfound liberty.

It feels like an eternity then, standing up to Ren examining him like the answer to all of his questions might be hidden somewhere on Hux’s face. It’s certainly not only angry confusion that has Ren frozen to the spot, Hux can tell. There is a noticeable spark of curiosity lighting up in Ren’s eyes, which Hux imagines is currently fueling the raging battle in Ren’s head.

“I can’t talk about what happened”, Ren says, visibly uncomfortable about the way his voice breaks, “I mustn’t.”

“Who could possibly forbid you to do as you please here?”, Hux asks, irritation clear in his voice.

Ren looks at Hux fixedly, appearing to be making a decision.

“Ahni Khaleesa can’t have been the one helping us. It can’t have been her giving me advice, and it can’t have been her meditating with me.”

“What?”

“It was her in appearance, but it can’t have been _her.”_

“What makes you think that?”

“The fact that I remember the look in her eyes when I killed her.”

Hux thinks he understands what Ren is saying, he just can’t seem to properly grasp the meaning behind it. He tries hard not to gape.

“The fact that I physically felt the life drain from her body. I don’t remember much about the day I went after Skywalker’s Jedi”, Ren continues, unable to suppress the tremor in his voice, “and I don’t remember in detail which of them I killed and which of them I left to the other Knights. The only reason I remember _her_ is that I thought highly of her as a warrior. I admired her skills. And-”

Ren pauses, avoiding Hux’s inquiring gaze.

“And I sensed great potential in her to become one of us. A Knight of Ren. I asked her to join us, in between wreckage and flames of destruction. She refused me, promised me I’d fail even though she had no idea what I was going to attempt. Then my lightsaber cut her throat.”

Well. _How could she not see the appeal in that offer,_ Hux thinks cynically, but bites it back. There’s a question he’s been asking himself too for a while now, and it’s far more important.

“Then who was that girl back there?”

Hux feels like he already knows the answer, but he’s anxious to know whether Ren harbours the same suspicion.

And for the briefest moment, Ren even looks like he’s going to tell Hux.

Which makes it all the more frustrating to see Ren eventually choosing to lie.

“I don’t know.”

Hux might be imagining things, but he believes Ren’s tone and his eyes to be underlyingly pleading. Like he’s secretly begging Hux to not question this any further.

Had Hux not just given Ren a lecture about how they would both benefit from trusting each other, he might have pressed him on the matter anyway, but as it is it would make Hux a hypocrite.

“So, whoever it was, they were an impostor. Do you trust in the knowledge you’ve gained regardless?”

“Yes”, Ren says a little too quickly.

Hux feels like shaking him again.

“How do you know that taking the path they’ve shown you won’t get us killed?”

“I just do.”

“You just do.”

“Do you really think I’d blindly follow directions without weighing every possible option first? That I’d make grave decisions like that without thinking it through?”

“That does sound very much like you, actually.”

Ren’s eye twitches.

 _"Rest assured,_ Hux, I know what I’m doing.”

Hux makes sure that Ren doesn’t miss the hidden _I doubt it_ in the look he gives him before Ren heads off to lead the way.

It feels strangely alleviating to be staring holes in Ren’s back again, knowing that he’s silent because he _chooses_ not to talk.

 

***

 

The gleam of the fire illuminates Ren’s profile, lending it the warmth it usually lacks.

Hux has spent almost half an hour trying to light it, moist wood and ground to blame.

Right next to them, the river flows so quietly that one could think it’s being clandestine - Hux had insisted they walk until they reach it when Ren had suddenly felt like stopping and setting up the tent for the night. Hux had come up with a convincing excuse, but in reality he doesn’t actually know why he prefers to be close to the water.

It’s almost peaceful, sitting by the fire with nothing to listen to except for Ren’s silence and the whispering of the river. Hux could get used to it.

“We’re close”, Ren says out of nowhere, making Hux wince.

“Did you see the temple?”

“Yes. We will reach it soon.”

When Ren turns his head fully, Hux doesn’t find the enthusiasm he expects. Instead he finds hollow eyes, looking like delight is the last thing that could have a place in them.

“You don’t look too thrilled.”

Ren raises his brows.

“Is that what you are? _Thrilled?”_

“Yes. All of this is finally coming to an end.”

Ren looks like he’s going to say something in protest, but decides to simply look at Hux like this is the most naive thing he’s ever heard him say.

Hux can’t even hold it against him - it’s not excitement he’s feeling about what’s to come, but dread. It’s just that he can’t possibly let Ren know that.

It’s quiet again. The leftover packaging of Ren’s instant-meal on the ground rustles when Ren resumes to absentmindedly poke around in it with a stick. The sound draws Hux’s eyes to it, keeps them fixed on it for a few moments.

“The girl and I had a conversation the day before we left”, Hux says then without actually meaning to.

The rustling of the packaging dies down.

“She told me you’re suffering. That you’re-”

“Stop it. Don’t waste another word on her or anything else that’s happened back there.”

“If _you_ don’t want to talk about it, fine. But at least listen to what I have to say. I know she’s tried to sabotage us.”

“You should stop talking, Hux.”

“She told you I couldn’t be trusted. She told you to deny me any more details concerning your lessons there and the mission.”

“Stop. _Talking”,_ Ren hisses with his voice down, like Khaleesa might be hiding behind the next tree and listen in on them.

“She told me to stay away from you too, you know. To let you _recover._ It’s the most basic sort of strategic manipulation.”

“Are you deaf?”, Ren replies heatedly, “Why can’t you just _accept_ that we’re only sitting here thanks to _her_ help? The _hows_ and _whys_ don’t matter, what matters lies ahead. Now give it a _rest.”_

“How stupid do you think I am, Ren? Do you actually believe I will simply _accept_ that you’re keeping important information from me, at the command of some girl who’s supposed to be dead?”

“Well, if you were _clever_ you’d have stopped asking questions the second I told you to!”

Ren is now shouting, face contorted in anger. Hux forces himself not to look startled when Ren gets to his feet abruptly.

“You’d have kept your mouth shut and trusted me, you’d have done the exact same thing you so arrogantly lectured me about!”

Now Hux gets to his feet as well, meeting Ren’s furious eyes.

“How could I possibly trust you when you’re obviously not _yourself?”_

“What would you know about that? I’m as much myself as I was a few weeks ago. I’m the self I chose, the self I created. Soon I’ll be the self I always aspired to become. Who are you to say which self is _me_ and which one is not, when you know nothing about me?”

“But you didn’t”, Hux says quietly.

Ren looks bewildered for a moment.

“I didn’t - what?”

“You didn’t create your current self. Someone else did.”

Surprise flits over Ren’s face, then wariness, then something that comes close to anguish.

And then, astonishingly - nothing.

Every emotion is replaced with an emptiness that resembles the one from Ren’s trance, and Hux’s anger makes way for a sudden, inexplicable feeling of guilt.

“Ren-”

“You don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me then.”

Hux waits, hoping that Ren realizes he’s being sincere.

Only Hux knows that it’s not the _information_ he’s primarily interested in. Hux is much more eager to see whether Ren will accept the hidden offer in his request.

Ren’s gaze drops to the ground before he speaks, making him look downright lost.  

“There’s no time to explain all of it, even if I wanted to. You said so yourself - all of this will finally be coming to an end soon.”

For what feels like the thousandth time, Hux watches Ren leave then, disappearing into the dawning night.

He sits back down, willing his heartbeat to slow.

Hux hates the person he’s become. He’s starting to get an idea of what it’s like to loathe yourself to the point of wanting to be someone else, just like Ren - only that Hux wishes he were his former self again. The old General Hux would have never let Ren’s words get to him, would have never felt the desire to share in Ren’s thoughts, would have never been disappointed by Ren’s rejection.

The old General Hux wouldn’t have been afraid.


	13. Chapter 13

“Ren?”

Each of Hux’s steps is accompanied by the sound of leaves and sticks cracking.

“Ren!”

Hux stretches out the electric lantern in front of him, squinting as if that would make him see any clearer.

In the back of his mind, he’s aware that he can’t stray too far from the tent, fearing that something or someone might steal their belongings even though there’s hardly anyone around who might be interested in doing that.

Sitting by the fire and waiting turned out to be an ordeal. Ren’s last statement drove Hux’s thoughts into all sorts of unpleasant directions, which was reason enough for him to get up and see where Ren had gone.

But now that he’s actually walking, actually feeling the cold night air sting in his lungs with each inhale, he’s gradually becoming more convinced that it was a terrible idea. Ren is probably just doing some thinking on his own, glad to be finally rid of Hux’s pointless chatter and in absolutely no need to be followed by him.

Then again, Ren is a mental wreck and can not exactly be trusted with being left to his thoughts.

Hux is about to call out for him again when he spots a small clearing not too far from where he stands.

Instinctively, he rushes towards it, a dread that defies all logical explanation rising within him.

He can make out a dark figure in the middle of the clearing, growing bigger as he approaches.

His feet slow down the moment he determines the figure to be Ren. It’s too dark to see any details, just bright enough to tell that his back is hunched slightly and his hands are fidgeting with something close to his torso.

The lantern in Hux’s hand drops to the ground with a thud.

“What do you _think_ you’re doing?”, Hux finds himself shouting, voice too upset for his liking.

He curls his hands to fists, which unfortunately doesn’t stop them from shaking. His eyes are flitting wildly in an effort to find Ren’s in the dark. They stop and focus where Hux believes them to be, in the middle of the white, barely contoured spot that is Ren’s face. He suddenly wishes he were close enough to see them in colour, but Hux is too furious to move.

Ren appears to be looking at Hux like a scared up animal, paralyzed, in a state of shock that freezes his entire body.

A wind gust pushes away the clouds obscuring the moonlight and the scene is tinted in a bright, otherworldly blue.

Now Hux can see him clearly - hair a mess, eyes wild, lightsaber pressed to his body at waist height.

“Hux?”

“Put that down”, Hux orders.

“What are--”

“Put that _down!”_

Ren looks at Hux as though he’d gone mad, then follows his gaze down to the lightsaber in his hands. His brow creases in confusion, his mind visibly reels, his mouth opens and closes, and then, he seems to understand.

“Hux. Whatever you thought I was attempting, it was not it-”

“How dare you even think about this? Is this your idea of a solution? Taking the easiest way out like a coward?”

“Hux, I--”

“I refuse to believe this! I always knew you were selfish, but this act of blatant egoism takes it to a whole new level! Have you, for one second, thought about what becomes of _me_ in your little scenario? Are you _that_ indifferent about all of this?”

“Hux.”

“You’re putting the saber _down_ or I’ll-”

 _“_ Hux, _listen!”_

And Hux is silent. His face feels hot, his heart is thrumming furiously, his whole body is tense and shaky.

Ren looks serious, almost stern as he examines Hux.

Then, his face eases slightly, his eyes suddenly softer and kinder than before.

“I was inspecting my lightsaber because I haven’t used it in a while. I was _testing_ it. It’s even aiming in the opposite direction, this is the _hilt_ touching my belly.”

Ren’s face and body are then bathed in the familiar, intense red light of the saber while a threatening hum ripples through the crisp air. Indeed, the blade ignites at the front and away from Ren, even the crossblades are nowhere near his body.

Ren proceeds to give Hux an infuriatingly relaxed look.

“See?”

Hux continues to stare right into the red, crackling flame, processing what he’s seeing, understanding what just happened.

It’s starting to grow unnaturally silent, the surreal feeling that comes with it caused by the fact that the crackling is suddenly muted and that Ren’s lips are obviously forming words, but no sound reaches Hux’s ears. Momentarily, Hux thinks he might have gone deaf, but then the sound slowly returns. It’s decidedly too loud when it’s back at full volume.

“...you even doing out here? Don’t tell me you suddenly _mind_ where I’m going and what I’m doing. And what is - Hux? Where are you going?”

Hux can’t stand another word. He can’t stand listening to Ren’s mockery after this outburst, can’t stand hearing his voice, seeing his face, feeling his presence.

He wishes he knew a place somewhere far from here, where he’d never have to deal with anything ever again. But there’s nowhere he can go, not a single spot on this planet where he won’t be in mortal danger.

His least favourite place also happens to be the safest - Hux blindly hurries through the forest and into the tent, almost rips off the zipper when he closes it forcefully behind him, sits down, waits.

It almost feels like a panic attack, but Hux identifies the feeling that floods him as anger. His hands have been trembling a lot lately, so it doesn’t catch Hux by surprise when they start trembling again. He knows that nothing will stop them from doing so, which is why he just sits, stares, waits for it to be over. His head is empty, except for this inconceivable, vigorous _anger_ there is absolutely _nothing_ Hux manages to focus on, which allows the sentiment to spread and take over every fibre of his body.

Embarrassment is, surprisingly, only a small part of what makes Hux furious - he knows that the real trigger is _realization,_ plain, ugly and brute, and he can do nothing to erase it. He wants to vent, but at the same time, he doesn’t. He wants to run, but at the same time, he doesn’t.

So he just sits.

He doesn’t even lift his head when Ren enters the tent, appearing to be just slightly out of breath.

“What was that all about?”

Hux couldn’t react even if he wanted to. The chants in his head are too loud. His mantra doesn’t work for him anymore - it hasn’t helped him on this planet, hasn’t made him feel any mightier the past times he repeated it, and it certainly won’t now. Instead, his head is filled with his own, mocking voice that ridicules him for his incompetence. Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf and Trill might just be a random combination of letters after all, not meant to reassure or empower someone as unimportant as Hux. Just another realization.

“Hux. You can’t ignore me now. We should talk about this.”

So _now_ he wants to talk. Now that it’s about _Hux’s_ humiliation.

“And which part exactly”, Hux starts, taken aback by hearing his own voice, “would you like to discuss?”

Hux’s anger burns like fire, setting aflame his voice and his eyes, and Ren obviously can’t decide how to react to it. Maybe he’s realizing just now that he shouldn’t have come after Hux.

“The part where I find myself wishing you would have shared your thoughts on the mission with _me_ instead of Khaleesa? The part where I was close to having a heart attack at the tiniest hint you might be thinking about killing yourself? Or the part where you touched me and left without so much as an explanation and it’s all I can think about ever since?”

Despite fury clouding his senses and evidence of his despair welling up in his eyes, Hux thinks that Ren has never looked funnier. A prime example for a disbelieving face, shock so evident it’s comical, but there’s currently only one emotion available for Hux.

“Stop staring and get out of my sight, Ren.”

“No. Explain what you mean by that.”

“Get out or I’m leaving. I’m fine with either.”

“This-- don’t run from this Hux, or I swear I--”

“You _what?”_

Breathing and talking and _existing_ get harder with each second and Hux notices he’s panting, exhausted from dealing with all of this.

 _“What_ are you planning to do? _Force_ me to stay? I get it, you _could_ if you wanted to, you’re _incredibly_ powerful, but has it been of _any_ help so far? Your powers have brought nothing but trouble, to others and to yourself, and still you’re so proud of them. They damage you under the pretense of reinforcing you, but you’re too dense to realize it.”

“You’re not being rational. You’re--”

“Are you actually trying to lecture me about acting rationally? _You?_ That’s it, I’m leaving.”

 _“Explain_ what you just said to me, you’re not going anywhere before you have.”

“Don’t wait for me.”

Hux gets to his knees. One more word and he’ll explode.

“Hux--”

 _“Shut your mouth_ _,_ Ren! I don’t see why this would need _any_ kind of further explanation! How do you expect me to explain something to you that even _I_ don’t understand?”

Ren just stares at him, probably noticing the severity of Hux’s state of upset. Hux hates how his own voice breaks, hates how he can’t seem to calm down, hates how nobody can change a damn thing about what’s happening.

But above all, he hates the man sitting right in front of him.  

“Don’t you _get_ it”, Hux hisses, voice fragile and eyes hot, “You _did_ something to me, and whatever it is, I demand you make it _stop!”_

The fact that Hux hasn’t left the tent yet, that Ren made him stay just long enough to witness him tearing up, adds to Hux’s fire and makes it unbearable. He did this on purpose, he wanted to see Hux weak again, it was all a scheme to humiliate him, to ridicule him. The eyes Hux is staring into are full of concern - or that’s what Ren wants him to believe. In reality it’s pity, pity and disbelief and disgust.

“I won’t”, Ren suddenly says, and if the tent wasn’t so deadly quiet it would have gone unheard.

Hux opens his mouth, but can’t reply. The thing that’s been building up inside of him is reaching a point beyond Hux’s control. He studies Ren’s face, follows the slight shake of his head.

Then, Ren’s look turns sour. Hux can _watch_ all concern drain from his features, just to be replaced by anger.

“I won’t make it stop, because you deserve it”, Ren spits, his breath suddenly just as ragged as Hux’s own, “It’s only _fair_ you’re suffering. It’s only _fair_ that I’m your weakness, just like you are mine--”

The last string of self-control Hux was holding on to rips. His hand curls into a fist all by itself, rushes forward by its own accord, meets the middle of Ren’s face with more vigour than Hux thought it could muster.

Hux’s thoughts come in segments - something cracked, he heard it, _felt_ it. Ren’s head is bowed, flung to the side, put there by the ferocity of Hux’s punch. The pain in his knuckles sets in. It’s too silent. Ren is starting to look up. Hux knows he should fear the look in his eyes, yet he doesn’t.

“If you ever do that again, I’ll make you re--”

The same, bruised knuckle hits Ren’s face a second time. Connecting with his cheekbone stings, but Hux can’t bring himself to mind. It doesn’t lessen the anger. It feels good anyway.

There’s open hatred in Ren’s eyes now and it’s just what Hux needed.

With a growl, Ren lunges himself at Hux, sending them both flying against the tent’s wall which nearly gives in under the sudden pressure. Hux tries kicking him, but Ren clearly has the upper hand in this - he grabs Hux by the shoulders, lifts him up just to throw him back down further to his right. The back of Hux’s head hits a spot on the ground that’s not covered by either sleeping bag or mattress, and immediately, his stomach turns.

For a few seconds, Hux can move freely, but before the idea of getting up even unfolds in his head, Ren is on top of him again. He sits down on Hux’s abdomen, unrelentingly pinning him to the ground, burying him under his weight. Hux tries to see clearly through the blurry curtain clouding his eyes, and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

Ren’s face has never looked quite like this - Hux has studied it many times now, has dreamt of it, has seen it look all kinds of distressed, but this - Hux has a hard time grasping the perfection of it. It’s a bizarre fusion of the expression Ren wore when Hux watched him in the pura-water and the bloodstained face looking up at Hux when Ren was kneeling before him in that dream of his. There’s rage in it, too.

Hux would have continued staring had his head not been whacked to the side by Ren’s rigid fist. There’s no time for the pain to spread, because the first punch is immediately followed by a second one, and a third one.

At first, Hux lets the blows rain down on him - Ren doesn’t seem to take breaks in between his hits and Hux can’t decide whether he welcomes that or whether he just accepts it, like he has come to accept so many other things. His heart is racing while he waits for a moment of weakness, yet it appears he’s waiting in vain. His head is starting to feel like mush, like he might never be able to think straight again, and he’s vaguely aware that he can’t take much more of this.

Ren however seems to have only just begun. Hux knows that in his rage, Ren is almost unstoppable.

Almost.

“Admit it”, Hux manages to breathe after a particularly intense punch, “Admit that you’ve wanted to be this close to me from the start.”

It causes Ren to falter for a split-second, like Hux thought it would. It’s a very short moment of inattentiveness, but Hux takes advantage of it. He musters every last bit of strength he has to rush his head forward and slam it against Ren’s, so hard that it sends him flying backwards, so hard it drives a groan from him.

It’s not much room Hux has gained, but it’s enough to free his legs and sling them around Ren’s waist. Swiftly and with all of his remaining energy, Hux tightens his grip on Ren and flings him to the side, reversing their positions in the span of a few seconds. His head is spinning violently when Hux finds himself looking down on Ren, yet against all odds he manages to grab Ren’s wrists and pin them to either side of his bleeding face.

“Isn’t it frustrating”, Hux hisses, fighting the dizziness, “to be weak for someone you hate? Isn’t it even worse to know that the sentiment is returned, but unwanted?”

Ren looks at him like he’s going to spit right in his face.  

“It’s there, it’s real”, Hux continues, watching a droplet of blood fall onto Ren’s contorted face, “but I don’t want it. I will never act on it. That makes it worthless. Meaningless.”

The aggression then drains from Ren’s features and turns into something Hux can’t read.

“Liar”, Ren says flatly, piercing Hux’s eyes with this unidentifiable gaze.

Hux sneers. That’s not the reaction he intended to provoke.

“Too bad you can’t check my thoughts for the truth.”

“There’s no need. Even without the Force, I know what a lying face looks like. What a lying voice sounds like. Your lie in particular is easily exposed.”

“Ah, yes”, Hux chuckles, “It’s all just empty words without proof, isn’t it?”

Before Hux can even contemplate the meaning of the defiant look Ren gives him then, he’s hit by a wave of hot, shameful arousal when Ren grinds his hips upwards without warning.

The sudden heat combined with Hux’s astonishment draws an embarrassingly needy, breathy sigh from him. Instantly, he turns his head away to escape Ren’s imploring eyes - he wants to get up immediately, flee this tent, flee this situation, but that would mean giving up on the power he currently has over Ren. He can’t have that.

“How _dare_ you”, Hux spits, fury rising again, eyes re-connecting with Ren’s.

“You’re going to _regret_ coming after me. You’re going to wish you’d never have agreed to this mission, you’re going to wish you hadn’t saved me so you couldn’t be humiliated the way you’re about to be.”

And with that, Hux pushes down his own hips, dragging them over Ren’s so slowly and with so much pressure that he has to actually fight making any noise himself.

The result is better than anything Hux could have ever hoped for - Ren’s surprised eyes fall shut, his tense jaw turns slack, whatever words he intended to spit back turn into a moan.

The sound sears through Hux’s entire body, making him yearn to hear it again.

Ren’s eyes fly open. Shock is evident in them, as are uncertainty, anger and confusion.

The air is thick with indecision for a while. Hux has no idea about how to proceed best, so he listens to his subconscious - which tells him to release Ren’s wrists from his grip, grab his chin and force him to return his gaze.

"I hate you", Ren mutters silently, somewhat sorrowfully, through gritted teeth. His hands carefully start wandering up Hux's thighs, stop at his hipbones.

Even though it's an internal fight Ren is having, Hux can witness every second of it - it's obvious that he's struggling, that he's just as indecisive as Hux is, wondering whether all of this might be _too much._ For a second, it feels like the hands resting on Hux’s hips are starting to push him away.

Hux has to win this, whatever exactly _this_ is or means. He has to keep his promise and leave Ren so deeply ashamed that he’ll still be mortified thinking about it when he draws his last breath. All Hux has to do is wait for Ren’s permission to make him give in. Ren has to _want_ to be broken by him - otherwise there’s no point in trying at all.

“Liar”, Hux says, and he knows from the look in Ren’s eyes that his accusation is true.

The moment Hux feels the beginnings of Ren’s push turning into a pull, he lets his hips crush down a second time.

Just like before, Ren can't make his scowl last. It's a view Hux will savour. An image he'll always keep in the back of his mind and recall whenever he pleases. Whatever happens, he has this image of Kylo Ren succumbing beneath him and no one can take it from him.

Hux can't rip his gaze away from the face right in front of him, keeps staring at it unashamedly - he examines Ren's flushed cheeks, the dark, red trail of blood beneath his nose that mixes with the blood that's dripping from Hux's own face, the parted lips, the creased forehead. The bruise that’s beginning to form there. The few strands of dark hair hiding Ren’s left eye. Each of his ridiculous moles.

He examines all of this, understanding that he’s reached a point he can’t return from.

Hux thrusts his hips a third time, and a fourth, picking up pace until he’s developed a steady rhythm. He draws each movement out, varies the pressure until the friction is maddeningly perfect, takes it so slow that it’s torturous rather than teasing. Ren’s eyes are wide open now - they look up at Hux like he’s the first person they’ve ever seen. Heavy panting fills Hux’s ears and spurns him on, making him feel like it might be the only sound he’ll never get tired of hearing.

Watching Ren’s features while taking him apart is turning into an addiction, something beyond his control, so when Ren suddenly rolls them both over and buries Hux under his weight once again, Hux is too lost in the sight of him to fight it.

Wrapping his legs around Ren’s back is an instinct, nothing Hux planned or even necessarily intended to do.

For the time being, the battles in both their heads seem to have come to an end.

Hux can’t help moaning when Ren continues to apply pressure way more vigorously than Hux did, speeding things up in a way that he would probably never have, a way that feels so _right_ that it makes Hux’s loss of control tolerable.

It’s strangely reassuring to have Ren’s body cover him whole, to have heat engulfing him inside and out.

Each thrust of hips drives Hux further into a state that’s impossible to escape from. Every fiber of his body is on fire, a fire fueled by the sound of Ren’s breaths. Ren seems to be losing himself in it as well, the roll of his hips gradually increasing in speed and his breath becoming more and more erratic.

Hux is aware that they’re still fully clothed, but even if he wanted to stop now he couldn’t. If there’s one thing he knows at the moment, it’s that he won’t miss a second of this, that there’s not a single reason in this world worth telling Ren to stop what he’s doing.

Ren’s motions are becoming precise, determined, _graceful,_ and by the time he’s perfected them, Hux’s back is arching and his head is thrown back.

 _“Yes”,_ Hux finds himself calling out breathlessly, and as though following an order, Ren lowers his head and nestles it in the crease of Hux’s shoulder.

Disbelievingly, Hux realizes that he’s close already. His hands find the back of Ren’s head, bury themselves in the black mass of hair. Their grip tightens involuntarily, making Ren sigh.

“I’m - I think I’ll -”, Hux attempts, but the remaining words stay stuck in his throat as Ren bites down hard on his shoulder, eliminating Hux’s last bits of composure.

Hux comes with his eyes shut tightly and his hands tangled in Ren’s hair so deeply it must hurt.

He has the urge to cry out, but he suddenly feels too weak to do so. Every last bit of tension leaves his body and for a few moments, he just lies, letting the fervid waves of heat roll over him. Dots scatter all over his vision, tiny, white and hot while Hux’s mind blanks.

It takes a while for the stars to fade, takes a while for the feeling of blissful exhaustion to ebb away.

It takes Hux’s mind a while to realize that Ren has stilled his movements.

Hux opens his eyes to find Ren looking down on him. Whatever the look he’s giving him is laden with is too open, too _intimate_ for Hux to process, so the only reaction that Hux is able to provide is look away.

That is until Hux slowly comes to notice another thing: Ren hasn’t finished yet.

“Why did you stop?”

Ren just stares.

It’s not the outcome Hux had gone for - this isn’t a look of humiliation, and Hux doesn’t feel particularly dominant either. Everything about this feels nothing like a means to an end, which it should be.

At first he thinks Ren might be waiting for some sort of instruction, or might be taking a break.

But then it dawns on Hux.

“Get off me”, he demands, surprised by how flat his own voice sounds.

The bewilderment crossing Ren’s face is almost pitiful.

“...What?”

“I said, get _off_ me.”

And to Hux’s astonishment, Ren does so instantly.

He retreats and sits down on his heels, looking at Hux like a beat dog. Hux gets to his knees as well, making a show of letting his gaze roam down to the rather prominent bulge in Ren’s pants.

“I know why you stopped”, Hux says, daring Ren to meet his eyes.

“You’ve never done this.”

It’s curious, Hux thinks, that two people can share the same silence and experience it in completely different ways. While Hux enjoys how superior it makes him feel, he imagines Ren must suffer from it.

It’s not like Hux has been in many situations like this - the encounters he’s had of this sort can be counted on one hand, none of them having left him with the desire to repeat it. Hux’s dedication to his education and later the Order did not leave much room for that, yes, but there wasn’t much interest on Hux’s part to begin with. It’s never been a priority.

That obviously doesn’t mean he’ll let Ren know just to make him feel better.

Ren swallows.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“I don’t think so”, Hux replies. “I think you’re staying right where you are until I’m done with you.”   

Ren’s widened eyes follow Hux as he crawls over to him, parts his legs and inches closer until he’s trapping Ren’s thighs between his own. If Hux shifted just a little further, he’d be sitting in Ren’s lap.

“You stopped because you were busy watching me. And - to your dismay, I imagine - it’s too obvious to deny it.”

Ren looks like he’s desperately trying to keep eye-contact and not let his gaze roam down on Hux, and like it takes a lot of effort to do so. His breathing speeds up.

“Where did all that anger go? Just a few minutes ago, I could’ve sworn you were about to - how do I put it? Tear off my head with your bare hands?”

A gulp is the only answer Hux gets.

“But that was before you started enjoying this, wasn’t it? That was when all that heated blood was still in your head.”

The heaving of Ren’s chest becomes even more frequent when Hux’s hand slips past the waistband of his pants and closes around his erection. Hux pulls it out without hesitation, secretly marvelling at how heavy Ren feels in his hand.

A small part of Hux expects Ren to intervene at any second, to bring an end to it before it’s too late and Hux finishing him off becomes a reality that can’t be undone - but maybe Ren knows just as well as Hux does that all of this already _is_ a reality that can’t be undone.

Hux’s first strokes are lazy and half-hearted, like it’s nothing more than what the name implies - a job. Work that needs to be done.

“It took me seconds to hate you, back then”, Hux starts, watching Ren press his lips into a thin line, “You didn’t have to do much. You got off your ship, sent one of my officers flying into the next wall after he offered to help you deboard, didn’t so much as stop to greet me after I had rescheduled several meetings to receive you.”

Ren is obviously struggling to deny Hux any kind of feedback. Apparently, he’s underestimating Hux’s determination in that matter.

His hand casually picks up speed, his eyes continue to pierce Ren’s.

“I admit it. I didn’t try very hard to like you, and you were easy to hate. Your mere presence chilled my blood, made my skin tingle with loathing and irritation. It still does, come to think about it. You’re still an offense to everything I stand for.”

Hux tightens his grip and draws the next stroke out, lowers his gaze to watch Ren’s hands clutching the sheets so hard his knuckles are going white.

He bends forward and brings his face closer to Ren’s ear, so close he can feel Ren’s hair brush against the tip of his nose. The sensation is strange, but Hux welcomes it.

“I never understood it - what could I have possibly _done_ to deserve you? Why would Supreme Leader Snoke punish me with a _child_ as co-commander? He’d told me you’d be an enrichment, an indispensable force to contribute to our cause and reach our final goal. But I knew it was a lie told to make me tolerate you. And I was right. Your only contribution was mess and destruction wherever you happened to have one of your infantile tantrums.”  

And then there it is, finally - a sigh. Soft, close to inaudible.

It’s the signal for Hux’s hand to move faster.

“A nuisance. That’s what you were to me. And how can I be blamed? You didn’t fit in, and I hate things that don’t fit in. No one seemed to be able to bring you under control, but let me be honest with you - what bothered me most about it was not that you could not be tamed altogether, it was that _I_ couldn’t tame you. But I guess this makes up for most of it.”

Hux stops his movements abruptly, and Ren cracks.

 _“Shit”,_ he swears, upper body crouching when he shiveringly releases the breath he was holding.  

“I tried so hard to ignore you, I really did”, Hux continues nonchalantly, “but you would force your way to the forefront of my mind all the same. Even on days I’d be rid of you, even at night, sometimes. It made me despise you even more.”

His hand resumes its work, not wasting any time now with taking it slow.

Ren moans, now letting go of the sheets and grabbing Hux’s thighs instead. His head falls forward just slightly, body tension seemingly leaving him.   

Hux’s palm has meanwhile gotten slick with pre-come, causing his strokes to fill the tent with sounds that are just plain obscene. He brings his lips so close to Ren’s ear that they’re brushing it as they’re forming words.

“If only I had known back then that _this_ is all it takes to keep you at bay”, he sighs, feeling Ren’s grip on his thighs tighten until it borders on being painful, “I would have sent one of my men to do it.”

Ren can’t hold back his panting anymore, forehead now almost resting on Hux’s shoulder.

Hux feels himself heating up again as well. He’s so caught up in the sensation that he barely notices the blood that’s still dripping from his nose, or the dizzying ache in his head and neck, or the metallic taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why it’s then that he has the briefest moment of realization.

This trembling mess clinging to him is Kylo Ren.  

Kylo Ren, who has burned villages to the ground, along with men, women and children living in them. Kylo Ren, who regularly tortures his enemies into unconsciousness. Kylo Ren, who is feared by almost the entirety of the crew on the Finalizer. Kylo Ren, who can make things and beings bend to his will with a wave of his hand. Kylo Ren, who has never made a secret of his hatred for General Hux, whom he is now shivering, panting, longing for.

Hux almost comes a second time.

There’s nothing graceful about the movements of Hux’s hand any longer, nothing graceful about Ren’s posture either. Hux takes a moment to admire Ren’s self-restraint, to marvel at how much effort Ren is putting into sitting so still even though they both know just how close Hux is to having him where he wants him.

“My sole consolation was that you seemed to hate me equally. That you were suffering in my company just like I was suffering in yours. Who would’ve thought that this is where we’d end up? You said it changed nothing, but you’re a fool if that’s what you’re really convinced of. It’s just another thing I hate you for, being capable of making yourself believe that when I’m not.”

An odd mixture of desire and anger seethes beneath Hux’s skin, greedily and insatiably relishing even the tiniest of Ren’s high-pitched sighs. It threatens to push Hux over the edge when he uses his free hand to tangle it in Ren’s hair and _pull,_ drawing a groan from him as his head rushes backwards and his heavy-lidded eyes meet Hux’s. There’s still a hint of provocation there, an unspoken challenge. Hux wants to wipe it out.

“It’s _your fault,_ do you hear me? I’ve grown weak and soft, and it’s _your_ fault! Do you know what helped me trick my mind into letting the old Mirialan heal me? It was the idea of _you_ being the one doing it. The idea that the touch I was feeling belonged to _you._ I hate you for infecting my thoughts with this, I hate you for making me _yearn_ for this--”

When Ren comes, Hux takes it all in. The brown of his eyes vanishing behind tightly shut eyelids. His heavy frown making his sweat-coated forehead crease. His mouth falling open in a wordless cry. The tenseness of his body, his shaking thighs caught between Hux’s own. The too tight grip that encloses them getting impossibly tighter. The ripples of tension that are pulsating harshly not only against Hux’s palm, but seem to be filling the air with a strange kind of thrum that feels almost electrifying.

Intoxicated by the combination of these impressions, Hux lets his eyes follow a fresh trail of blood running from Ren’s nose down to the curve of his parted lips. He’s almost sure he’s not strong enough to hold Ren upright when he suddenly starts sagging, Hux’s firm grasp the only thing keeping him from slumping down completely.

Hux waits, doesn’t remove either of his hands, telling himself it’s just so Ren can compose himself and won’t crush Hux under his weight. No one can know that he uses every second he has to revel in the sight that he’s being offered, or that he already dreads the coldness that will flood him at letting go.

Hux’s head is spinning and his thighs are throbbing when Ren’s hands start slackening slowly, but he pays it no heed. All he can focus on is Ren’s face, the fire in his gut stirring at the thought that it was _Hux_ who made it look like this.

It takes a few more moments before Ren’s mouth closes and he swallows audibly, another second more before his eyes open a bit only to drop down immediately.

“I shouldn’t-”, he pants, visibly straining himself as he does so, “I shouldn’t have--”

Ren grunts in surprise when Hux yanks his head forward, bringing their faces closer together and forcing Ren to meet his eyes.

“Spare me your self-pity. Tomorrow we _talk.”_

It takes all of Hux’s willpower to withdraw both of his hands at once then, all of his remaining strength to heave his body off of Ren’s. His legs tingle uncomfortably when he puts weight on them, but he wills himself to ignore it as he gets up shakily.

He doesn’t dare take another look at Ren before he leaves the tent, knowing it might make him consider to stay.


	14. Chapter 14

Hux winces as his feet give in and he drops to the ground near the riverbank.

He’s very glad that he denied himself a second climax - if it weren’t for that pestering heat still curling within him, he’d come to notice many other unfortunate details about the situation he’s in. He’d become aware of how the coldness colliding with his sweaty skin will likely make him catch a cold. He’d become aware of how the damage his body took at being beaten up by Ren is likely to not only leave bruises, but will surely leave him sore for days. He’d be hit by the hard reality of what he just did.

As it is, his body and mind are still in a mild haze, which allows him to sit and dazedly watch the water of the river rushing past without really any disturbing emotion to prevent him from calming down.

When his breathing is even, the world has stopped spinning and his limbs are no longer shivering, Hux shifts to get his legs into a more comfortable position. He sneers as the desire arises to change out of his pants immediately, to take them off and throw them into the river. Looking down on himself only makes it worse.

Wishing he could take a look at his own reflection but knowing it might be for the best that it’s still too dark to do so, Hux bends over and immerses his hands in the pleasantly cool water. When he’s sure he’s scratched them as clean as circumstances allow it, he uses them to splash some of the water on his face. The revitalization it offers only lasts so long.

After his hands fetch the last charge of water, they remain firmly pressed to his face, keeping it in place as though it might slip otherwise. His fingertips press down on his eyes until they start prickling.

_It’s only fair you’re suffering._

The press of Hux’s fingertips intensifies.

_It’s only fair that I’m your weakness, just like you are mine._

Hux tries to concentrate despite his reluctance to damage his head any further tonight.

It’s what he always wanted, if only in secret. Ren bowing to his will has been one of Hux’s deepest desires since the day they met, and even if he wouldn’t have expected his dominance to be established - well, in _this_ particular way, Hux guesses he should feel empowered, triumphant.

Except that Hux can’t possibly be a winner in this when it wasn’t about superiority and inferiority at all. The only thing this encounter really showed was how they’re both excellent at shifting the blame, and above all, how they’re both equally _doomed._

In the end, it wasn’t only Ren who gave in, _Hux_ gave in as well. Wanting to break Ren was nothing more than a pathetic excuse for that. Hux let himself have what he knew was not his to have, and even though he desperately wishes it was Ren’s fault, Hux has only himself to blame.

And this is certainly not where their joint doom ends. It’s not their own judgement and disapproval they have to fear for showing this weakness of will - it’s the Supreme Leader’s.

Hux hasn’t allowed himself to think about it too often until now, but he feels like this is the most honest he’s been with himself in a long time and he’s unwilling to put a stop to it just yet.

Snoke will not have much sympathy left for either of them after he’s seen what happened, which Hux is sure will only be a matter of time. Hux remembers the words he was supposed to deliver to Ren back in the village like they were irreversibly planted somewhere in the back of his mind - _all that you need is right there for you to take, but all that feeds your weaknesses lies right next to it and keeps the scale balanced. I taught you how to distinguish - focus on the destination, not the fleeting promise of satisfaction._

Now that Ren has declared Hux a weakness of his, Hux is a disruptive factor. A distraction that prevents Ren from focussing on the destination. A fleeting promise of satisfaction. _This is what comes of not thoroughly planning ahead,_ Hux thinks to himself, suppressing the impulse to get angry again.

If this mission actually _is_ some sort of test for Ren and a chance to prove himself like Hux suggested, then Ren’s reluctance to confide in Hux might be part of resisting temptation. Ren might not be talking to Hux because he’s afraid that Snoke will interpret it as disobedience.

Hux sighs when he feels his headache returning promptly. It makes him distinctly sick, knowing that Ren is breaking apart and is obliged to keep it to himself. As far as Hux knows, it was Snoke who put him in this state, in order to transform Ren into his personalized weapon. And now that he’s disappointed with the results, he sends Ren to retrieve something for him and conditions his survival on whether he succeeds with that or not.  

Wondering at which point exactly he started worrying more about Ren’s _wellbeing_ than about obeying Snoke’s orders, Hux uncovers his face and places his hands next to him on the ground.

He freezes when it’s not dead leaves and moss he’s grasping, but an uncharacteristically sleek surface.

Heart skipping a beat, Hux gives the ground a few frantic pats to make sure he isn’t hallucinating - but it’s indeed smooth, as though covered by some sort of glossy material.

Hux opens his eyes to find that he can’t see a thing.

A pang of panic explodes in his chest, causing his stomach to clench.

Black. Black wherever Hux let’s his gaze roam. He’s drenched in cold sweat before he knows it.

He recognizes what’s happening, is familiar with the way the nausea makes him want to go unconscious and the way the darkness makes him feel blind and helpless - but the familiarity of it makes it only slightly more endurable.

Hux’s hands are morbidly pale when he stretches them out in front of him. Something tells him he should turn around and take a look at the place he’s in, that he should ignore the dread that fills him and _go,_ look what’s waiting for him.

Following the silent instructions of these visions is the only way Hux knows how to pass through them, so he gets to his knees. As soon as he thinks he’s steady enough, he gets to his feet.

The complete, utter silence allows Hux to listen to his own rapid heartbeat, the sound resembling drums playing somewhere nearby. Hux is clueless about what he’ll do if it’s Snoke’s face he finds at turning around. He starts swaying at the thought that this might be the last nightmare of this sort he experiences.

There’s no way around it. His boots slide across the even ground as Hux turns around, and against his expectations the movement is silent, provokes no squeaking sound.

Even though Hux _expects_ to find something awaiting him, he startles when he sees the Ubiquitum lying a few steps away from him, glow lost to the dark with nothing around to be illuminated.

The initial relief at not being forced to face Snoke quickly evaporates as the Ubiquitum begins to quiver, rattling in the process.

_Take it._

Hux turns his head so quickly it starts spinning again, trying to determine where the whisper had come from but failing to locate it. He couldn’t tell whom the voice belonged to if his life depended on it.

He hesitates. The last time he found himself in this situation, touching the Ubiquitum ended up being a disastrous choice and he’s unsure whether he has the strength to experience something like that a second time.

_Take it. Now._

There’s no way around it. Hux can keep standing there, thinking of what other possibilities he has, or do as he’s told and get it over with quickly.

With somewhat faltering steps he starts approaching the gleaming object, faintly feeling a strange kind of tension building up as he does so. It’s still shaking violently where it lies, apparently eager to be picked up. Hux could feel its presence even if he could neither see nor hear it - like a living being it has an aura that influences, attracts, _captivates._ Hux feels foolish for thinking an object capable of having a consciousness, but he feels it now more than ever that the Ubiquitum must have something similar to a _will,_ one which it can make known to Hux by merely existing.

There’s no way around it. Hux doesn’t dare take a closer look at it before picking it up, not sure what consequences it might have if he looks at it for too long. It stops quivering the second Hux’s hand closes around it, as though calmed by his touch. In spite of his acute fear, Hux enjoys the coolness of the Ubiquitum against his palm, feels deep down that this is where it belongs and that it’s good to have it back.   

_Turn around._

The voice has become more distinctive, yet Hux still can’t be completely sure if his mind is playing a trick on him or not.

He obeys immediately and turns around, a lot more confident now that he’s reconnected to the Ubiquitum - and instantly takes a few rushed steps back as he finds Scott Lown lying on the ground right behind him.

The initial shock ebbs away slightly when Hux realizes that Lown is barely moving, barely breathing, unlikely to get up and jump at his throat. He looks serene, almost peaceful, lying on his back with his eyes closed like he’s just gone to sleep.

But Hux knows he’s dying.    

_He requires your help, General Hux._

Snoke’s voice is impassive and demanding at the same time. Hux feels his body freezing and knows he’s trapped.

_Think of a face, speak the words._

Hux has many questions but knows that he has no permission to ask any of them. He isn’t even sure whether he’s able to articulate them, currently.

The fact that he has no idea what these instructions mean or what will happen if he can’t follow them reawakens the panic he had dismissed only moments ago. Hux has to figure this out on his own, and quickly.

_Think of a face. Speak the words._

The impatience in Snoke’s voice feeds Hux’s anxiety.

His fist clenches around the Ubiquitum - then he feels it.

A plan of action is already anchored in his memory, and just now he is granted access to it.

Hux closes his eyes and feels the coldness of the Ubiquitum seep through his skin, infecting the rest of his body within seconds. He directs his undivided attention to creating a mental image of Scott Lown’s face, focusses on getting as many details as possible right until it feels like Lown is standing right in front of him.

“Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill”, Hux says determinedly, instantly feeling the sheer _rightness_ of it.

The Ubiquitum begins to vibrate, the air starts to crackle, and the moment Hux sees Lown’s chest rising and his back arching he knows that whatever he just did was effective.

He watches in astonishment as a thread of thin, white smoke starts languidly rising from Lown’s chest. Instead of dissipating, it remains channelled and starts moving in Hux’s direction.

Instinctively, he stretches out the hand grasping the Ubiquitum to meet the dubious substance, understanding that he’s the one drawing it closer.

As the smoke caressingly winds itself around Hux’s hand and starts soaking into it, the first thing Hux feels is the Ubiquitum greedily absorbing all of it. He can feel the artifact being strengthened by it, feels it taking in every last bit of smoke until it’s positively buzzing with newly acquired power.

The second thing Hux feels is a tingling in his hand, then his arm, then the rest of his body as the Ubiquitum seems to be transferring this power _to Hux_ \- his stance becomes steadier and more upright with each second that passes while raw _strength_ rushes through his veins, already beginning to make Hux crave more, _much_ more of it.

_Pain is worse when you expect it._

Hux remembers Ren saying those words, but he can barely let them sink in before feels the change.

The third thing Hux feels is a burning, unrelenting pain explosively taking over every inch of his body, setting him aflame from the inside, singeing each and every one of his nerves.  

There’s not much more he can feel now, only his hands and knees hitting the ground and his throat stinging as he screams.

Whatever found a home in Hux’s system now just threw away its disguise and turned into poison devouring him from within, and all Hux can do is stay its host until it’s over.

Hux drops to the side and curls in on himself reflexively. Each time he’s sure he’s going unconscious, something pulls him back and keeps him awake. The pain starts over as soon as relief is in sight, like Hux is caught in a tormenting cycle with no definite end.

After feeling the procedure repeat itself for the third time, Hux isn’t wondering _if_ this torture will kill him, but _when._

_You are a powerful man, General, but you are not powerful enough for this._

Hux writhes on the ground, struggling to find a single spot in his body that doesn’t ache. Snoke’s voice is loud and clear despite the fact that Hux’s cries of anguish should be drowning it out.

_This is what you’re here for. You may not be powerful enough for it, but I am. And I am willing to offer my guidance, despite your recent lack of loyalty._

Hux’s eyes shoot open after the all-consuming pain had shut them tightly - he feels his lids being tugged at, kept open by something that is most definitely not his own willingness.

His view is hazy, but not hazy enough to prevent Hux from making sense of what he’s seeing.

Not too far away from where Hux lies squirming in pain stands Snoke, in the flesh, golden robes gleaming warmly in the otherwise dark surroundings.

_“Let me help you. I’m the only one who can.”_

_Anything,_ Hux wants to shout, _I’ll do anything to make it stop,_ but his teeth are clenching adamantly, to the point of making his jaw feel like it might be breaking any second.

_“Open your hand. Let go of what tortures you.”_

Hux is about to obey. His brain already commands his hand to unfold, but before his hand can execute the order Hux feels the darkness around him shifting.

The outlines of Snoke’s figure start blurring, then disintegrating as if blown away by a wind gust. Everything is spinning, making Hux feel like he’s water in a drain, and then -

Nothing.

Every muscle in Hux’s body slackens as he loses track of where he is, what is happening and what he feels. He closes his eyes.

The pain is gone.

 

***

 

Hux doesn’t wake until a dull, continuous thumping catches his attention.

He rolls over and buries his face in the crease of his elbow, pulls the hem of his sleeping bag up to his ears, refuses to open his heavily protesting eyes.

Whatever it is, it’s _too early._

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Groaning, Hux tenses up further, irritation rising at realizing that he won’t be able to go back to sleep now. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so utterly, miserably tired.

Hux drowsily brings a hand to his face and rubs his sleep-heavy lids.

Realization hits him only when he brushes his nose and it results in a stinging hot pain expanding in his head.

His eyes shoot open as a rush of panic pulls his upper body in an upright position, but he’s immediately hit by a wave of fatigue and slumps back down.

 _Calm down,_ Hux instructs himself, knowing that fretting further will not make his strength return.

For a few seconds, nothing feels real - not his thoughts, not his body, not the tent when he looks around in it. It might have to do with the memories of how he got here, or the lack thereof.

The unnerving thumping doesn’t make collecting his thoughts any easier.

Hux has no difficulties recalling his vision of Snoke. He remembers it in detail and is sure he will be able to remember it that way for the rest of his life. However, something must have happened between him going unconscious and him waking up here in the tent, tucked into his sleeping bag.

Feeling that he can’t bring himself to put two and two together, Hux lets his thoughts stray into another direction.

He’s still wearing the clothes from the night before. He knows from the itchy feeling on his neck that there’s still some dried blood on it.

Hux shudders in disgust. His mouth feels dry, he’s thirsty. It’s the need for water that finally pushes him to get up, the need to get clean, and the need to put an end to whatever is causing this infuriating _thumping_ trampling on his nerves.

He picks up his water bottle lying right next to his bag, fetches his toothbrush and the last set of fresh clothes he has and exits the tent. The air is cool when it collides with Hux’s warm face as he searches for the source of the dubious sound.

It doesn’t take long to find it. Just a few feet away from the tent, Ren is squatting next to a pile of wood. There are two rabbit-like creatures lying on the ground next to him, unmoving. Hux can’t tell their species, but he supposes Ren must know enough about them to consider them edible. Ren’s hair is hanging into his face and covering his profile like a curtain while he repeatedly jams the two rocks he’s holding together.

Hux suppresses the snort that almost escapes him at the sight - maybe he’ll tell Ren later on that he wouldn’t get these two rocks to create a single spark if he smashed them against each other until nightfall. It doesn’t work with that kind of mineral, but Hux decides he should let Ren figure that out on his own. It’s not like Hux is eager to have a conversation before he’s clean and properly awake anyway, so it might be best to just ignore Ren and head for the river.

Before Hux can put any effort into silently sneaking off however, Ren looks up.

It’s not the first time Hux is glad to be talented at keeping a straight face and hide his surprise, but when Ren’s face is revealed Hux is more than grateful he’s disciplined enough not to take a step backwards and stumble back into the tent.

Ren’s face is so messed up that Hux’s eyes have trouble deciding on where to linger first.

The decision is made for Ren’s nose then, which is obviously broken; after that, Hux quickly examines his split lower lip, a dark, purple bruise under his left eye and a minor swelling on his forehead just where Hux’s head had collided with his. The overall sleep-deprived look about him makes the injuries seem even worse.  

For a moment, they just stare each other down in silence.

Ren’s look is defiantly inexpressive, not giving away what he’s thinking. Hux is doing his best to look equally indifferent. The moment grows heavier with every second, as does Hux’s discomfort.

When Ren finally looks like he might be about to say something, Hux storms off and the moment is gone.

There’s still time for this when Hux has regained a little of what’s left of his dignity by taking a bath. The walk to the river makes him realize that he’s never been this far from feeling like a person - he’s unwashed, unkempt, aching all over and barely able to open his eyes. Like some sort of _savage._

Hux’s steps quicken before he can get too disgusted with himself. As soon as the river comes into sight he tosses his stuff to the ground and undresses, sure that this is the quickest he’s ever gotten out of his clothes.

The sensation of the water caressing his skin is just as phenomenal and simultaneously peculiar as it was the first time Hux stepped into it, and again he finds himself marvelling at its unique clearness. He pointedly avoids looking at his own reflection, suspecting that the sight would only upset him further.

Hux wills his mind to blank and closes his eyes before he dives under completely. He imagines this is what it must feel like to be reincarnated - the water embraces his entire body, giving him a feeling of being cleansed inside and out, of having an old layer gently peeled off to reveal a new one.

He doesn’t know what makes his mood switch from one second to the other, but suddenly the feeling of freedom and relief is replaced by abrupt, dizzying anxiety. It’s having his eyes closed, Hux quickly determines. It’s being blind and being on his own. What if Snoke was waiting for this moment and is ready to strike? If Hux is pulled into another vision right now, he’ll _drown._  

The panicked thought urges him to resurface in a rush, water splashing excitedly as Hux gasps for air.

 _Calm down,_ Hux thinks to himself angrily for the second time today, almost embarrassed on his own behalf. This fear is not ungrounded, but still Hux feels stupid for letting it get the better of him. If Snoke wanted to execute him, he could have done so already on various occasions. There’s something Hux has to stay alive for, that much he’s already figured out.

 _But he could make you suffer again,_ Hux’s inner voice offers. Yes, he could indeed - and Hux can’t say he doesn’t dread the possibility of having that done to him again. However, there are some things Hux has learned from this last vision, and he must try to focus on what it taught him rather than letting himself be swallowed by the fear that’s supposed to cover that up.

There is more to the Ubiquitum than Hux had assumed. Apparently, Snoke knows not only about its existence, but knows how to _use it._ And after having seen - no, _felt_ first-hand what it does, Hux is unsure about how to feel about Snoke’s awareness of it. Hux had always thought of the artifact as some kind of personal secret, even though he knows something like that wouldn’t slip Snoke’s notice. Like Snoke himself, the Ubiquitum is ancient and mysterious, powerful and distinctly sinister. It makes sense Snoke would know about it.

Still, Hux’s stomach turns at thinking about what that might mean. _This is what you’re here for. You may not be powerful enough for it, but I am._ Though Hux wishes it were otherwise, he thinks he understands - Snoke was referring to their mission. From the moment Ren told Hux about the temple and why they were going there, Hux had thought that knowing what they would end up retrieving would help him prepare for it mentally, but now that he knows it he thinks he’s never felt less prepared for anything.

Without doubt, Snoke was trying to show Hux exactly that: Hux is not powerful enough for what’s coming for him, but _Snoke_ certainly is and he’s willing to help. The Ubiquitum seems to be an auxiliary device for transferring vital force from a being of choice to the one using it, a procedure Hux’s body appears to be incapable of undergoing without experiencing unbearable pain. Snoke knows this and is offering Hux his guidance to -

To achieve what, exactly?   

Hux musses up his hair, then presses his fingers to his aching temples. He feels that he’s close to figuring something out that will help him make sense of things, but he just can’t seem to take the last, defining step.

Snoke kept this from him. He lied about why he sent Hux on this journey. He sent Hux on this mission knowing he was not strong enough to complete it.

Maybe all of this is really nothing more than a very complex punishment.

The thought that Snoke might be sitting in his throne right now, smugly grinning to himself and not lifting a finger while he lets Hux do the dirty work makes Hux furious. Snoke gets away with so many things solely due to his powers. Hux has pondered this many times, has asked himself this about Ren, too - if you take away his powers, what’s left?

Ren at least has a strong, well trained body that indicates he could take care of himself even without the Force, but Snoke would be weak, a mild breeze compared to Ren’s thunderstorm. All the times Hux got to see Snoke in person validated this; Snoke’s body alone could be defeated within seconds. It’s Snoke’s abilities that make him the most threatening being Hux has ever encountered, and it’s the fear these abilities instill in Hux that kept him from thinking about this until now.

Hux had trained himself not to delve into these matters too deeply, fearing Snoke or Ren would find out he’s secretly searching for weak spots in their mighty leader. But now it’s like none of this matters anymore - it’s like Hux is truly on his own.

 _That’s not true_ pops up in his head, but Hux doesn’t want to hear it.

With almost childish stubbornness, he resumes washing himself, splashing more water onto his shoulders which have already gone dry again.  

Hux winces when his hand brushes the left side of his neck - the touch causes a slight jolt of pain to run through his shoulder. A sudden, inadvertent wave of heat rolls over Hux when he remembers that this is where Ren bit him.

Shaking the feeling off with as much dedication as he can muster, Hux goes on with his cleaning routine. He doesn’t know how much time he’s spent in the river when he finally gets out of it again.

For the shortest moment, right after Hux has slipped into his fresh clothes and feels their warmth slowly engulfing him, existing feels _good._ His face doesn’t ache as much as it probably should, the air in his lungs is as fresh and clean as the rest of him and all tiredness is gone. Concentrating on the positive aspects of his current situation is astoundingly uplifting, not at all as ridiculous as Hux thought this method to be.

But he’s never been good at blanking out problems until they disappear, never having been in a position that allowed such acts of carelessness. His spirits crush back to the ground as quickly as they had been lifted.

Hearing his own stomach churn on his way back, Hux wonders whether Ren will share whatever animals he’s caught or whether he’ll make Hux watch him eat them on his own. Then again, Ren shared the fish he caught last time as well, so Hux can’t see why Ren would keep his quarry to himself this time. The worry continues to cling to Hux anyway, if only in the back of his mind.

When Hux reaches the camp, he halts for a moment to take in the picture he’s greeted with.

Not only did Ren manage to light the fire, he’s also done preparing the food - in fact, he’s already chewing on what seems to be a leg, looking like the taste of it is not too satisfying.

Hux watches Ren for a few seconds before approaching. Seeing him nibble at this obviously insufficient piece of meat and sneering slightly in distaste is oddly sympathetic, relatable. Ren looks so _human_ sitting there and Hux can’t help but find it endearing in a very twisted way. He’s seen Ren eat before, but something about it is different now. Last time Hux checked, the sight of something so simple didn’t give him a weird sense of content.

Making sure his steps are loud enough to be noticed by Ren, Hux makes his way to the unoccupied log next to the fire and sits down without further hesitation.

Ren stops mid-chewing, looking at Hux with round eyes. Hux has to smother his amusement at the sight of Ren’s expression combined with his stuffed cheeks.

He’s not sure why, but for some reason Hux is reluctant to ask for food. He blames it on his manners that he doesn’t want to take this for granted - especially after literally having broken Ren’s nose the night before.

Ren seems to understand Hux’s struggle.

“You can have the second one”, he says after swallowing down his last bite, “I’m full.”

Hux doesn’t have to be told twice, even though he acknowledges subconsciously that Ren can’t possibly be satiated by such a small ration. He rushes to grab the spear with the impaled rabbit, almost burning his fingers in the process. Only when he takes his first bite does he realize just how starved he was, carelessly swallowing even though each bite is so hot it numbs his already sore throat. It prevents him from properly tasting what he’s eating, but judging by Ren’s reaction that might even be for the better.  

Despite feeling Ren’s eyes on him Hux refuses to acknowledge him until he’s eaten up, scared that the uneasiness might make him lose his appetite. Hux is so caught up in enjoying the feeling of satiety that he startles when Ren suddenly starts talking.

“So. What happened last night?”

Hux forces his expression to remain indifferent as blood rushes to his head, heating up his ears and cheeks.

“I thought that was rather obvious. Would you like to hear me retell it in detail or-”

“I don’t mean _that._ I mean the part where I found you lying at the riverbank screaming your lungs out.”

Ren looks as offended as Hux feels.

“Well. I have no memory of doing that, so why don’t _you_ tell _me_ what happened.”

“I was waiting in the tent, about to go to sleep. Then I heard your screams and went looking for you. When I found you lying there, you were not responsive and could not be calmed or woken up. You were cramping and your voice had already gone hoarse, so. I made you faint.”

“You--”

Hux is sure he must be looking absolutely horrified, judging by this troubled look Ren is giving him.

“I couldn’t think of another way. I thought you were dying.”

It almost sounds like Ren is defensive about the decision he’s made - maybe he thinks Hux is angry with him, for whatever reason. Hux however doesn’t know what to make of the information he just received.

Ren’s Force-trick was the reason Hux couldn’t drop the Ubiquitum like Snoke had suggested.

It was _Ren_ who relieved Hux of the pain, not Snoke.

“And then you carried me back to the tent?”

“You certainly didn’t walk back there yourself.”

Ren looks down at the fire crackling between them.

Only when Hux imagines what he must have looked like writhing on the ground, when he visualizes Ren finding him and trying to get him to calm down, does he start feeling truly ashamed.  

“I must have passed out from the damage you inflicted on my head and slipped into some kind of nightmare.”

“That’s not what happened, Hux. It was something more complex than that, and that’s not the first time it’s happened to you.”

It would be so easy to tell Ren everything. Then again, that’s what most tempting things have about them - they’re easy.

Ironically, it’s exactly what Hux is expecting Ren to do. Hux fails to understand how Ren can keep everything to himself when theoretically, it would be so _easy_ to share all of it with Hux.

But that’s the crucial point, isn’t it? It’s only easy in theory.

“No, you’re right. It is more complex than that.”

For a long moment, they’re both quietly regarding each other. Hux can’t help but have another look at Ren’s deformed nose; it’s not too obviously disfigured, but oddly out-of-place enough to catch one’s eye.

Subconsciously, Hux is aware that he’ll have to take the first step in Ren’s direction to enable any sort of productive communication. This conversation was Hux’s proposal, which is why Ren must be expecting Hux to take the lead in it.

It’s a reasonable notion. Hux hates it nonetheless.

“And yes, it _has_ happened before. I find them difficult to put into words, these… I don’t even know what to call them. Trances? Visions? They’re unlike regular nightmares, they don’t feel like my own. They’ve played out similarly so far, in a way - out of nowhere, I feel this _surge._ It tends to make me feel nauseous and is usually coupled with an intense headache. I open my eyes without having closed them before and find myself in complete darkness. There’s nothing there, I can’t see the ground I’m standing on, no walls, no light. All I can see is my own body. It’s completely silent, too. And then, there’s--”

Hux pauses, feeling the reproduction of this experience quickening his pulse. Voicing this makes Hux even more uncomfortable than he would’ve anticipated.

“Then there’s Snoke waiting for me.”

Ren’s face falls briefly, but he composes himself just before Hux can continue.

“The Supreme Leader?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

That causes Hux to falter. He’d have expected Ren to ask questions, to ask about what motives Snoke could have to make Hux have these visions. Hux is relieved that Ren doesn’t seem to question that because it means Hux doesn’t have to lie to him - he can hardly tell Ren it’s for his secret reports. Ren already _knows_ Snoke and Hux are in contact with each other, but still Hux is surprised that Ren isn’t asking for details.

“However, that doesn’t explain why you were screaming like someone was skinning you alive.”

Hux can’t decide whether he should feel amused or annoyed. He shortly considers telling Ren about the Ubiquitum, but dismisses it instantly. Something tells him he’d be insane to do that.

“I believe Snoke felt I was in need of a-- reminder. To help me remember my place. A disciplinary measure, so to say.”

Frankly, Hux doesn’t know how he thought Ren would react to that. Whatever he expected to see on Ren’s face after that statement, it certainly wasn’t shock, or incredulity.

“What did he do?”

“I thought you knew all about that.”

That raises Ren’s brows.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what exactly he’s done to you during your training sessions, but I think I’ve gotten an idea of it. It’s what I wanted to talk about.”

“What are you--”

“I’m aware that for some reason, you are restricted from voicing any sort of criticism when it comes to what happened in the village, so keep your silence about it for all I care. But I am going to tell you exactly what happened now. Let’s call it _my interpretation_ of it, so it’s got nothing to do with _your_ thoughts on it. All you have to do is listen.”

“No, Hux, if you’re going to--”

“Ren, that’s not how _listening_ works. You know just as well as I do that it was not in fact Ahni Khaleesa talking to us, but Snoke.”

There it is - the next point of no return. Calling it that sounds grave and fatal, but Hux has had enough of living in fear. He continues, ignoring Ren’s terrified, pleading look.

“At first, he did it to set up a test for you. He somehow managed to disguise himself as one of your old classmates, to see whether you’d kill her or not. I don’t know any specifics about _how_ he did it and what happened to the real girl, but I _know_ it was him. He sensed that you were struggling and called you in for reconditioning, under the pretense of wanting to help you find the way. Maybe it was him who took the ability to find it from you in the first place, to see how you’d react. Then he spent _days_ meddling with your mind, and you let him.”

Ren is breathing harshly, eyes outright horrified. But he listens, doesn’t interrupt even when Hux stops to study his reaction.

“The last conversation I had with the girl makes startlingly much sense assuming it was Snoke speaking through her. She told me things that are way too specific for anybody else to know. Snoke wanted me to stay away from you, to not get too near his _property._ So he explained to me in detail how your mind is fractured and in danger of collapsing, and how _he’s_ the one who’s responsible for that. He essentially told me you’re an experiment of his gone wrong.”

Not for the first time, Hux wishes he were able to read Ren’s thoughts. Hux knows Ren won’t be able to hush throughout the entire conversation, however hard he may try.

“What exactly did he say?”, Ren asks after thorough contemplation, proving Hux right.

“He compared you to a puzzle. Said he failed in completing it, that he left holes in it and forced pieces to fit that didn’t match. He said he was wrong to assume that he could create a perfect warrior who is simultaneously a sane human being. He said he intended to create a balance, but instead caused a constant conflict. You said so yourself - it’s not _balance,_ it’s _indecision._ He said he made you eliminate your former self, bit by bit. I couldn’t make sense of what I witnessed when I accidentally got involved in your trance, but now I can. Snoke wanted you to prove that you could still kill the memory of that boy on the couch and his parents, but even _I_ saw your hesitation. He realized just how severely flawed his methods were, and his latest attempt at fixing things made you a mindless shell.”

“The Supreme Leader was right in doing so, he-- I failed him, so he did what was necessary.”

“I have never questioned his intentions, Ren. Never, not for one second. And I’m starting to feel that I was a fool not to. He was already leading the First Order when I was introduced to it by my father, who remained reluctant to supply me with details about how Snoke came to rule over us and where he came from. Snoke is the _Supreme Leader,_ he’s mighty enough to help the Order end the chaos the Republic left the galaxy in and subjugate everyone unwilling to bow to our rules - that’s all I needed to know, and I accepted it. So long as everything was going according to plan, there was no reason for me to scrutinize him and his plans for us. But now that he’s sent _me,_ General and therefore military head of the organization, and _you,_ his most powerful apprentice, on this mission to a backwater planet after we’ve both failed at the tasks we were given, things are put in a different light. I don’t know about you, but it does make _me_ wonder just how valuable we really are to him.”

Even though Hux explicitly told Ren that it would be fine to just listen, Hux itches to get some kind of feedback from him. Hux knows exactly what he’s asking of Ren, knows exactly that he’s expecting him to make a decision that might change the course of things. He’s not sure how he’s courageous enough to do this - it’s like the idea of Snoke torturing Ren like he tortured him is silencing each of Hux’s inner voices screaming in fear.

Hux bends forward, gripping his knees to support himself. He waits until Ren’s eyes lock with his.

“Ren. All my life I’ve had to convince myself of my own importance and greatness. I’ve had to reassure myself constantly that I’m not only significant, but _indispensable._ Because deep down, I couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if I wasn’t. If my job could be done by anyone, if I could be replaced by someone better just like that, what’s the point of dedicating myself to it? It’s become one of my deepest convictions - I am the future of the First Order, and only I can lead it to definite success. Now, I was and _still am_ so sure of it that I expected everybody else to be convinced of it, too. I understood rather quickly that _you_ weren’t amongst these people, which irritated me until I learned how to dismiss it. But Snoke? I never even wasted a thought on the possibility that he might not share my conviction. He wouldn’t replace me just because I’ve disappointed him once or twice, would he? He too knows I’m important and irreplaceable, after all he tolerates me, _approves_ of me, doesn’t he? That’s what I made myself believe, right until he sent me here and told me he’d execute me if I don’t do as I’m told.”

While Hux gains composure and confidence with each word, the opposite seems to be happening to Ren. He radiates ill-concealed terror, providing Hux with proof that what he’s telling Ren is taking effect.

“If he deemed me important, he would have left me in charge of the Order. He wouldn’t have sent me here, to a place where I can’t help set things right and deal with the disaster that was losing Starkiller Base, where I can do nothing but wait for his instructions all day, where I’m shown just how dependent and unimportant I really am. Snoke is showing me my place, and he doesn’t even have to be present to do so. He’s showing me I’m his _tool._ And whatever it is he’s using me for - it’s what he’s using _you_ for, too.”

The silence that follows feels like a seal that settles Hux’s fate. It feels like a silence that follows after something Hux knows he’ll regret, but now there’s no taking it back. There’s only waiting for Ren’s answer.

And Ren takes his time. Hux is almost entirely sure Ren won’t question his master, will deny everything Hux said and pretend this conversation never took place, considering Hux has no idea how he himself could be mad enough to voice these doubts.

He gives Ren a look he hopes will remind him that the true betrayal has already happened. Not last night, not the first time Ren took Hux in hand, not when Ren gave him that look in the cropgold field - it’s happened in their heads, even before either of them knew what it was.

This weakness is treacherous now, yes. But it has been treacherous since the second it came into existence.

“I grew up knowing I was different”, Ren begins finally, now looking anywhere but at Hux, “Nobody had to _tell_ me in order to let me know, I felt it in the way they treated me. I felt it within myself as well, but I was a child and I didn’t know what to do with it, what to call it. When I confronted my parents about it, my mother explained to me that it was the Force I was feeling. That I’m _Force-sensitive._ She told me the Force was an energy field created by and connecting all living beings, and that some people felt its presence more intensely than others. _One day,_ she said, _you can learn how to use what it offers you, if you want to. You can learn to control it and make great things happen._ I remember how confused it had left me - what she revealed to me sounded good, _exciting,_ and I started looking forward to learning more about it that very second. But what I saw in the look she gave me was not excitement, it was _fear._ I didn’t understand it, and no one cared to explain it to me. It was the day I learned I was different in a way that seemed to scare everyone around me.”

Anticipation tightens Hux’s chest - he wills himself to sit still, remain silent, do nothing that could make Ren consider to stop talking.

“I had many questions, but no one ever seemed to be around to answer them. It was like everyone was competing over who could spend the most time away from me, fleeing from having to educate me about my powers and calling it _discharging their duties._ And I knew it was not because they didn’t care, or because they were too busy, or because they didn’t know what to tell me - it was out of fear. They did their best to hide it, but their forced smiles couldn’t erase that tiny spark of concern in their eyes whenever I would address the topic. I was at a loss, overthought it every night, never managing to fathom what it was that made them abandon me.”

 _It’s because they’re all incompetent cowards,_ Hux can’t help but think, and an unbidden, irrational twinge of annoyance starts stirring deep in his gut.

“It was one of the worst nights that Snoke reached out to me for the first time - he wouldn’t tell me who he was initially, only that he’s a friend. I was five, at that time. I remember asking him how he managed to make me hear his voice inside my head so clearly, and he explained to me that there were many other great things he could do. He said he was using the Force to do it. That he was once just like me, full of questions that no one would answer. _But then I found a teacher,_ he said, _and now I know everything there is to know._ He offered to tell me about it, turning the worst night into the best one I’ve had in a long time. I didn’t sleep that night, was so intrigued with all of it that I begged him to stay when he said he’d have to leave when the sun rose. He promised to return, said this was only the beginning of what he was going to teach me. And he kept that promise - he reached out to me almost every night after that. Step by step, I learned who I was and why everybody seemed to fear me.”

Hux thinks he understands where this is going. He wants to ask whether Snoke ever told Ren how he found him, but he’s far from interrupting Ren now.

“Snoke explained that it was the darkness they feared. There are two sides the Force unites in itself, the light side and the dark. The people around me dreaded the dark because they never cared to study it. Their lack of knowledge made them fear what it could do to me. Snoke told me they were wrong to abandon me for it, because knowing and understanding both sides is the only way to use the Force to its full extent. He predicted me that because of this ignorance, they would soon make me undergo training with Luke Skywalker, and that he would be training me in the light side exclusively. I asked Snoke whether I should protest, refuse them, but he told me to accept the offer and dedicate myself to understanding the Force from this perspective. He said that when the time came, he would take over and I would become his apprentice. So when my mother approached me a few days later asking me if I still wanted to learn how to use the Force, I knew what I had to do.”

Taking in each word, Hux forces himself not to look like he feels sorry for this younger version of Ren. _Ben Solo,_ Hux’s mind offers, and something about the name chills his blood.

“You’re not the only one who’s never questioned him. Growing up, he was the only one I could trust, the only one who never lied to me. The only one who never _feared_ me. He seems to have an understanding of everything, his knowledge about the galaxy is incredibly vast, beyond anyone’s imagination. For a long while, our secret alliance was _perfect._ His words of guidance inside my head were what kept me going, they were all I needed, no matter the situation he would know what to do or to say. So when one day he told me that the days of the Jedi were numbered and that I’d have to help him kill them all, I didn’t think twice. He’d helped me get this far, _they_ had never done anything for me.”

The fire has receded to a simmer when Hux looks at it, listening intently. He’s unsure whether the shivers running down his spine are caused by how Ren’s voice is starting to shake or the fact that the air around them has actually gotten colder.

“That’s when it started. I did as I was told, and I expected to feel the way I usually did after listening to Snoke’s advice: Better. Stronger. Like a slightly improved version of myself. At first, I did. I hated the Jedi, I hated what they embodied, and I was glad to be rid of them and this sense of arrogance they carried. I disdained them for clinging to their elitist thinking even though their view was so narrow - they only taught one half of the truth after all, turning their backs on the other half completely. But the satisfaction with myself and what I had done soon started to wear off. I started seeing their faces in my dreams, begging me not to slaughter them, screaming my old name at the top of their lungs as if in deliberate taunt. I’d be blindsided by memories of that day during training sessions with Snoke, who kept telling me I did well and would soon learn how to get rid of everything weighing me down - my guilt, my past, the name that was given to me by people who never truly understood me. It felt like an evolution when he gave me my new name, like a liberation. Ben was weak and full of remorse, and I was no longer him.”

Hux wants to shake his head in disbelief. Not because of the revelations Ren is entrusting him with, but because of the way they make perfect sense. Since the day he met Ren, Hux has grown more confident with each of their petty arguments that they would _never_ come to some kind of mutual understanding. Ren’s story is absurd, twisted, far from what Hux considers likely or logical - but Hux _understands_ it. He might not be able to grasp what it must feel like to be able to _connect to the Force_ or have some old, wise creature whisper words of instruction in your head every day, but he believes that it’s not only possible, but has actually happened to Ren.

“I used to think that Snoke finding me and reaching out to me was a fortunate coincidence, that fate sent him to me as an offer to exit my misery and become who I was destined to be. But the more I think about it, the more I’m starting to believe that it was not fate that brought him to me, but rather-”

“--a plan.”

Hux suddenly feels like getting up and pacing as a misplaced sense of excitement floods him, but remains cemented to his log when he sees the look of alarm on Ren’s face.

“Ren. He knew about your power. He pried on you when you were an unsuspecting child and exploited your discontent and anger. He tricked you into believing he’s the answer to all of your problems.”

“He _was_ the answer to all of my problems.”

“That’s right. He _was._ But is he still?”

Ren’s silence is the only permission Hux needs to ask a question he thinks will get Ren to think.

“Has he ever told you what exactly it was that he was training you for?”

“So I could become more powerful than anyone has ever been. More powerful than _him.”_

“And as soon as you’re more powerful than him, what happens?”

“I kill him.”

“And you think he’ll let you?”

For a moment Ren pauses, the direction this is taking obviously making him very uncomfortable. Hux enjoys how Ren is visibly connecting the dots in his mind.

“It’s not uncommon, it’s-- tradition, in a sense, the natural course of things. When the apprentice outclasses the master, he disposes of him.”

Hux finds himself tempted to believe that. He knows fairly little about the values and traditions of Force-users - this could be true, or Ren could have spontaneously made that up, Hux wouldn’t know.

The only thing he can rely on now is his own understanding of Snoke. Hux may not know much about Snoke as a mystic, but he does know a fair amount about Snoke as a _leader._

“You know I’m not an expert when it comes to this, Ren. But the Snoke I know does not have the distinction of playing by the rules. He’s ruthless and cruel. I used to take pride in sharing these traits with him and thought it’s what made me valuable to him. That’s why I believe to know what he wants, and it’s certainly not gracing you with his wisdom until you’re powerful enough to take his place. He wants a throne, and he wants to be the only one sitting on it.”

Everything about Ren screams that he wants to take it all back, that he wishes he could go back in time and silence Hux before he could get him involved in this deceitful conversation. But the words hang between them now, out in the open and impossible to drive back into their minds.

“You have no idea how powerful he is”, Ren says after taking a moment to let Hux’s words sink in, “You have no idea what he’s capable of doing if we fail this mission.”

“When Snoke tortured me last night, he said he was the only one who could help me get rid of the pain. But eventually, it was _you_ who relieved my of it, by making me go unconscious from the outside. Snoke seems to have lied about certain things. Maybe he’s lied about being almighty as well.”

“I have seen his power, Hux, I have _felt_ it. What you got was a mere glimpse of it, in comparison. You said it, he’s able to show us our place without being physically present.”

“Oh I don’t doubt he’s powerful. I doubt he’s almighty, as in _invincible.”_

Ren looks positively dumbfounded. Hux doesn’t know why it makes him so uneasy, suddenly.

“Quit looking at me like that, Ren. Don’t pretend you’ve never had these thoughts before.”

“That’s not it. I just find it hard to believe that _you’re_ having them.”

 _Fair enough,_ Hux thinks, unable to provide an elaborate explanation for his behaviour. His struggle to categorize his current allegiance is hard to put into words, even trying to justify his choices to himself seems like an impossible task at the moment. Hux was always so sure of what he wanted, but now it appears he wants everything at the same time and is incapable of compromising.

“You were always so eager to please him”, Ren mumbles under his breath as though talking to himself, making Hux frown.

“So were you.”

“And you considered yourself a contender to his throne.”

“So did you.”

Ren pauses.

“You thought I was a threat to that idea. I heard many of your thoughts about how I was the thorn in your side that kept you from being Snoke’s successor.”

While that does raise Hux’s brows in mild surprise, it also gives him a new idea that pushes him further towards the figurative cliff of treason that he’s dangerously close to falling down.

“That was when I was under the assumption that our rivalry and mutual aversion was a cruel twist of fate, not part of his schemes.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying. Snoke set us up against each other on purpose to have us constantly trying to outperform each other, so that we’d be trying our best to do his bidding. He sent us here knowing we can’t stand each other, knowing we’re both vying for his favors, knowing we’d do anything to prove we’re still worthy of his attention. We played our parts well, but now we’re departing from the course he set for us so he’s trying to push us back on it.”

It’s unnerving and fascinating at the same time to watch Ren think. Even though Hux can’t read him as clearly as he usually can, there’s still an obvious series of different emotions flashing over Ren’s bruised face, telling a story Hux can’t follow.

But Hux considers Ren’s long silence a small progress nevertheless - he’s not denying, not blocking, not attacking Hux for having coaxed him into opening up. He’s just thinking.

Hux is at the edge of his seat when Ren finally looks up, appearing to have come to a conclusion.

“How do I know you’re being genuine? How do I know this is not part of the test?”

Hux evens out his expression, trying to cover up his mild disappointment. These questions sting, for some reason.

“If this was part of the test, I’d say you’ve already failed.”

Ren has nothing to say in reply, leaving Hux to think it might be wisest to give the topic a rest and set out for the temple. He can’t help being frustrated - he just risked everything, sacrificed every bit of safety he had left to tell Ren about his doubts, and all Ren does is question Hux’s sincerity.

“It may be best we get going”, Hux says flatly, rising from his log.

Ren’s eyes follow Hux’s boot when it stomps down a few blades of dry grass that have caught fire. Hux turns to go back to the tent, but stops himself when he remembers something.

“And you _will_ head to the river and do something about your face before that. I don’t care what reasons you have for not having done so already, you won’t continue this mission with a broken nose.”  

 _“You_ broke it in the first place, what do you care?”

“Well seeing you like this made me realize I’m sorry for breaking it. I won’t have you be a walking guilt trip for me.”

That shuts Ren up, and the ensuing quiet allows Hux to swiftly retreat to the tent and leave Ren to his thoughts until they depart.

Hux feels Ren’s gaze piercing his back as he walks away. It feels nowhere near as empowering as it used to.


	15. Chapter 15

Hux can’t wait to exit the forest.

His hopes are raised for the third time when he finds a bright spot in the distance where the trees are becoming sparser, and for the third time he realizes it’s just a clearing as they approach.

Ren, who’s trudging next to Hux and has long fallen silent, seems unperturbed by what is happening around him and is apparently occupied with blindly following the route he’s construed in his mind.

After Hux had packed both his and Ren’s equipment about three hours ago, he’d been surprised to find Ren gone at emerging from the tent, had been even more surprised to see him return a few minutes later wearing nothing but his trousers, and had been outright shocked to see that except for said trousers, Ren was soaking wet.

Ren had pretended not to notice Hux’s reaction, but it can’t have _possibly_ slipped his notice - even now, hours later, Hux feels a flush creep over his face at remembering the awkwardness of it all. Hux had tried his best not to stare and had failed miserably. His embarrassment had been completely misplaced considering that by far more intimate things had happened between Ren and him already, but still the sight had left Hux utterly dumbfounded.

It didn’t end there - there was that concerning visual appeal, yes, but the tingling heat in Hux’s head had only properly unfurled and spread to the rest of his body after realizing that Ren had followed Hux’s orders. He’d taken a bath in the river to fix his face.

It had been unexpected and could honestly not have been any more satisfying. It had given Hux a taste of what he’s undoubtedly always craved. It had hit him in such a perfect way that the memory of it still makes his skin crawl.

Hux swallows and gives Ren a discreet cursory glance. He’s now fully clothed against the chilly air and much to Hux’s disbelief, his facial bruises and swellings have already receded a great deal. Ren is unaware of Hux’s questionable struggle, stubbornly following his imaginary path.

As per usual Ren hadn’t given away too many clues about where exactly they’re going, and Hux had known better than to question it further. It’s enough to know they’ll be following the river for a while and will at some point leave the forest. Ren said he saw mountains ahead and speculated that they might have to pass through them in order to continue their journey. _The temple should lie somewhere in the midst,_ Hux recalls, still hating the insecurity in that statement.

Hux believes they’re already walking uphill - he thinks he can feel a slight change in the atmosphere, his steps are growing heavier and the river to their right appears to be a lot more lowered than it was back where they set out. The translucent water is now a major leap away from the bank.

Just when Hux is about to ask Ren whether they’ll be taking a break any time soon, Ren preempts him.   

“I’ve thought about what you’ve said. About Snoke.”

The abrupt words overwhelm Hux with the same kind of sickening discomposure that used to seize him whenever he was called upon in class and found himself unable to answer the question. He tries to convince himself that Ren’s answer won’t change much, but his subconscious seems to be more than aware that Ren’s reaction will have a great impact on various things - Hux’s fate included.

“And?”

“I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re completely mad.”

Yes, of course. Mad.

The tiny part of Hux that had foolishly hoped Ren would eventually agree with his reasoning shatters, making room for disappointment and irritation. Hux remains silent.

“No sane person would take a risk like that in your position”, Ren adds.

Attempting to see things from Ren’s perspective seemed like a good idea initially, but now that Hux actually tries it he finds that it makes the situation all the more enraging, not relatable.  

“At first I was absolutely convinced that you had conspired with Snoke to test me, that he told you to tempt me so he’d know whether I was loyal to him or not. If I’m being honest, I still can’t be entirely sure that’s not the case.”

The callousness in Ren’s voice infuriates Hux further. It makes him feel like an idiot - a naive, emotional _idiot._

“Don’t bother continuing, Ren. I shouldn’t have put so much faith in your intelligence.”

Suddenly, Ren’s steps quicken and he passes Hux, crosses his path and comes to a halt right in front of him, blocking Hux’s way like a massive boulder.

“Don’t give me that. Let me finish.”

Hux notes the shivers Ren’s words combined with his almost intrusive proximity send down his spine and wishes he weren’t so bizarrely _excited_ about having Ren practically tower over him. While Hux does dislike the idea of Ren having the upper hand, it’s obvious that he prefers this version of Ren over the one from the village.

Ren only continues talking when Hux’s eyes snap out of their stubborn fixation on his chest and move upwards to meet his gaze with pointed reluctance.

“While I still think you’re not in your right mind”, Ren starts, ignoring Hux provocatively rolling his eyes, “I also think that there’s no point in denying that you were right about many things, and that you already know more than you should. Not only about Snoke, but also about me.”

Hux waits, eager to hear where this is going.

“I can not help but feel that you’ve somehow… managed to get to know me, even though I gave you close to nothing to work with. I know you’ve studied me, but one can only study so much from an external perspective, without the Force. You might just be excellent at pretending, but you’ve succeeded in making it feel like I’m a subject you’re good at. Like you’re constantly one step ahead. This used to be my role, my special ability that nobody else had - real, reliable foresight. I always thought I knew all about you. Your ambitions, your preferences and your dislikes, your opinion of everyone around you, your opinion of me. I have sensed your thoughts so many times that I was sure nothing you’d do could ever surprise me.”

Something swells in Hux’s chest. It grows with each of Ren’s words, leaving Hux short of breath.

“However while you seem to have figured me out, I have never been less sure about whether I ever even _began_ to understand you. Since the moment I lost the ability to sense your thoughts, you’ve done many things I didn’t understand. You wielded my lightsaber when I was unable to. You followed me into one of my visions and brought me back to reality. You started not only listening to what I say, you started _offering._ Advice, things about yourself and your past, undivided attention. You erased the aftereffects of Snoke’s reconditioning with a few carefully picked words. And then, of course, you looked me straight in the eye and told me you think Snoke is fooling us both.”

Still waiting for Ren to make his point, Hux feels like the tension is threatening to suffocate him. He reckons he knows what Ren is trying to say. Hux would stop Ren right there and be adamant that they move on if it weren’t for this intense craving to have Ren finish this, to have him say it _out loud._

“I’m so far from having you figured out, Ren. I don’t think I ever will, and I also don’t think it’s mine or anyone’s job to do that. To figure you out. You’re not some puzzle to solve.”

Ren swallows, a spark of something Hux can’t place briefly but undeniably lighting up in his eyes. Even Hux is taken aback by his own choice of words.

“You amaze me”, Ren says, eyes never leaving Hux’s.

Despite knowing how utterly moronic it must make him look, Hux can’t keep his mouth from falling open, ready to utter an impassive retort. But none of the replies he prepared fits and every potential reaction he dismisses makes his heart beat faster. Ren just keeps talking as though he isn’t aware of how badly he’s knocking Hux out of his stride.

“You’re mad, and it fascinates me. You’re risking your position - if not your life - to give me this idea of a future in which we are allies rather than enemies. I wish I could see what drives you, what you’re doing it for.”

Now Ren does expect an answer.

Hux can’t deny he’s having trouble adjusting to every aspect of this - interacting so far away from hostility and sarcasm, the sincerity in Ren’s eyes, the weakness of his own knees.

It’s a miracle Hux hasn’t aborted this exchange yet. It’s beyond him why he’s still standing here, hands trembling and eyes inexplicably drawn to Ren’s mouth, of all places.

“I could ask you the same thing”, Hux chooses to reply, shaking the thought off, “Your behaviour makes no sense. You tell me you’re suspecting I was sent here to tempt and distract you, and yet you do nothing to stop me. I believe I’m not the only one risking his position here. What would you say is _your_ reasoning behind that?”

Ren pauses shortly to consider.

“I don’t know”, he then says quietly, and Hux believes him.

“Exactly. Me neither.”

Maybe Hux does know. Maybe he really doesn’t. It’s inconsequential at the moment, and they both seem to acknowledge that. Hux is not ready to figure out his reasons - be it the one he’ll give himself or the one he’ll give Ren.

“As much as I’d like to, I won’t pressure you into making up your mind, Ren. It’s too late for me now, anyway - Snoke will make me pay for doubting him and for making you entertain the thought of doing the same. My life is already at risk, and I can only hope that this mission goes as planned and everything falls into place, eventually.”

For the first time in this conversation, Ren’s gaze leaves Hux and drops to the ground. He’s worrying his lower lip while he seems to be thinking, and Hux can’t stand how much this expression fazes him.

“We should concentrate on finding the temple. There’s not much we can do before we’ve reached it”, Hux says before taking a step back and walking past Ren, realizing only then just how incredibly small the distance between them had been.

 

***

 

Hux almost lets go of the small ledge he’s holding onto when he takes a closer look at his hand. The back of it is tinged with a light blue and his knuckles are a violent shade of red - he regrets not putting on his gloves. The temperatures have dropped considerably, leaving both Ren and himself shivering as they climb up a steep, uneven scarp. If Ren hadn’t insisted that this is the only way, Hux would have come up with a variety of reasons against climbing up this wall of stone, cold shivers running down his spine at the memory of what was waiting for them at the top the last time they did that.

The river they’ve been following has gotten a lot broader. If they wanted to cross it now, they’d have to swim. Hux daringly glimpses downward; the water to his right looks peaceful from up here, but Hux knows that’s no indication for the strength of its stream. The mountain they’re climbing prevents them from looking into the distance to see how far the river runs. They’ve been walking uphill for quite a while, and now that following their route requires actual _climbing_ Hux can’t deny he’s fairly exhausted. The air is a lot thinner up here, and Hux has trouble breathing.

At least Hux is a lot stronger and healthier now and in no need of support from Ren, who is right below Hux and seemingly just as dissatisfied with the difficult terrain. A thin layer of ice has formed on some of the rocks Hux is gripping, further increasing Hux’s fear of slipping. Knowing that Ren could technically keep him in place with the Force isn’t reassuring enough to dispel Hux’s panic.

The idea that the temple is located somewhere behind this mountain, that as soon as they’ve reached the top they’ll be able to _see_ it somewhere in the distance is almost too good to be true, so Hux tries to keep his expectations low. There might still be a long way ahead of them, full of other atrocities preventing them from moving onward. There might not be a flat ledge big enough to provide room for pitching their camp like Ren promised, but another monster waiting to tear Hux apart, this time for good. Hux has caught himself keeping an eye open for a hint of moving fur more than once now, eyes subliminally scanning his surroundings for places to hide.

The only thing worse than an attack from the outside would be one from within - a possibility Hux had never thought he’d ever come to fear. His knowledge about the range of Snoke’s abilities is limited, so the things Snoke _could_ be capable of are even more frightening than the ones Hux has already experienced. Hux can’t refrain from coming up with the wildest ideas, the worst one being the idea of Snoke possessing either his or Ren’s body to take charge. They’d both be at Snoke’s mercy.

Having Ren on his side would put Hux at ease. He’d still be in mortal danger, but somehow he feels that an alliance with Ren would be a chance for them both to make it out of this alive. Hux has never actually believed in fate, but this mission has made him reconsider. Maybe it’s Ren’s deranged influence on Hux that makes him believe that there’s a purpose to everything he’s doing, that every direction his life has taken especially on this planet is shoving Hux towards a destination he can’t see clearly yet. And if there’s one thing Hux is entirely sure of, it’s that his fate - though he’s still hesitant to call it that - is inevitably tied to Ren’s.

No one has managed to make Hux feel what Ren has made him feel. Though Hux is loath to admit it, the inability to classify his attitude towards Ren as hatred has left him in a turmoil - what used to be clean-cut, vehement repulsion is now a messy, unstructured medley of feelings Hux never asked for, and it’s causing him unnecessary conflict. Hux could handle the physical attraction, as atypical and absurd as it might be. It has revealed a primal, basic part of Hux that he thought was kept under control by his extraordinary self-restraint - the failure to resist could be called an impulsive slip and not given further importance.  

Hux’s current struggle however is not as easily excused and dismissed. The fact that Ren makes for a strong ally is not the only reason Hux wants him by his side. Hux wants them both to escape Snoke’s torturous grasp, despite knowing he has to turn on Snoke for it. All of this is foreign to Hux - his primary concern has always been his own advantage. While the First Order and its associates _are_ very dear to Hux and he _is_ fully committed to taking care of them, Hux knows he feels this because he needs their willingness to comply to eventually follow his own agenda.

Ren’s wellbeing on the other hand does in no way serve Hux’s personal advantage. Hux doesn’t profit from Ren healing his broken nose. He doesn’t profit from Ren getting a proper amount of sleep or enough to eat. He wouldn’t profit from seeing some of Ren’s psychological wounds heal.

And yet he concerns himself with it.

Hux’s heart skips a beat when the next stone he grabs is a loose one. His right hand loses hold of the wall momentarily and Hux immediately feels the weight of his bag dragging him backwards. Reaching out reflexively, he clutches the next best stone he can find - and manages to steady himself in time.

“It’s right above us”, Ren calls from below, “we’re almost there.”

“You better be right. I can’t feel my fingers”, Hux growls, adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

As it turns out, Ren _was_ right. After pulling himself upwards a few more times, Hux hefts himself onto the hard, dusty surface of the ledge, instantly dragging his body as far away from the edge as he can. Ren follows suit soon after, clambering up the ledge with remarkable agility. The almost unnatural nimbleness in each of Ren’s movements is downright offensive - he’s already getting to his feet again, calmly letting his gaze roam over their new surroundings while Hux sits panting in the dirt, arms shaking and heart hammering from the effort. _Show-off._

Hux tries to ignore Ren and gathers himself before taking a look around as well.

The ledge they’re on is larger and more even than Hux would’ve expected, almost resembling an observation platform. There are no trees up here, not much green in general now that Hux actively searches for it - only down below where they came from and on the other side of the river, Hux can see the woods stretching out indefinitely. The river winds itself through the mountains, ripping them apart and dividing them like a huge gash. It disappears somewhere at the horizon between massive walls of stone, in a place Hux’s gaze doesn’t reach.

At turning around, Hux first briefly acknowledges Ren tossing his bag to the ground, then takes in the rest of the ledge: It’s broad enough to theoretically accommodate at least fifteen tents, but it’s confined by the abyss in front of Hux and another wall of stone behind Ren. The mountain is eroded there - the space is hollowed out enough to provide shelter from wind and rain, but too shallow to be considered a cave.

Hux’s gaze is drawn back to the grey mountain tops blending into the equally grey sky in the distance. It’s the first time he’s granted a view like this. Recruiting members for the First Order and the acquisition of trade partners have given Hux many opportunities to see foreign worlds in the past, but most of his impressions were gathered from behind a window of some transport shuttle. The extreme secrecy surrounding these meetings was, of course, crucial for the clandestine rise of the Order, but it did not allow Hux the luxury of going for a stroll and explore the countryside. Not that he had any desire to do so in the first place.

But now that he sits here, breath slowly evening out and the rush of silence filling his ears, it dawns on Hux that he might have missed out on something essential.

Rubbing his numb hands together and listening to Ren setting up their camp in the background, Hux continues to sit for a little while longer and observe the planet he’s come to despise so much. He specifically searches for a hint of the temple, yet it’s nowhere to be found.

“Can you spot it from here, Ren?”

“What?”

“The temple.”

There’s no immediate reply, only the shuffling of feet and more rummaging. Then, the sound of footsteps approaching, then the scrunching of loose stones as Ren sits down on the ground to Hux’s right.

“Look there.”

Hux’s eyes follow Ren’s outstretched arm to his left, to a spot in the distance Hux is sure was already scanned by him.

“I did _._ There’s nothing there.”

“Look closer. In between the trees, at the foot of that mountain.”

“I --”

Hux concentrates on following Ren’s pointing finger, squints in an effort to find something that even remotely looks like a building - until he sees the entrance. It’s tiny, easily overlooked, simple.

In other words, it’s nothing like Hux had imagined. When thinking of a temple, Hux would have pictured a vast, pompous, prestigious building, the obvious center of everything built around it. Not a cave hidden within a mountain with an entrance resembling a mouse hole.

“I see it”, Hux says flatly, hiding his bewilderment, “it’s still far away.”

“It is. But it’s in sight at last.”

“Have you still not seen what will happen as soon as we reach it?”

“No.”

Hux faces away from the temple and towards Ren, who continues to stare past Hux. A violet shadow on the bridge of Ren’s nose is all that remains as proof of their fight, and Hux is more than glad to see the injuries gone. Ren has put on an additional black jacket over his old costume and wrapped his singed cape around his neck like a scarf. Even after all this time they spent here, it’s still a strange sight; Ren protecting himself from the cold like any other person would, redness spreading from his cheeks to the tip of his nose.

Hux’s thoughts wander back to the temple. He wonders whether telling Ren about the Ubiquitum would make things easier for them or whether it would leave them even more confused and unsure than they are now. He has a lot of questions Ren might have an answer to.

 _No,_ something tells him, _he can’t know about it._ It would be too great a risk - what if they waste all of their energy worrying about it just to find out it’s actually worthless? That Hux has fallen for some sort of trick and there’s really nothing to it?

Hux won’t be the one to ruin it. They will have to wait and see.

Ren’s eyes have lost focus, meanwhile. He appears to be deep in thought, and the expression makes him look young.

“What are you thinking about?”, Hux inquires before he can help it.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Well. Permission granted.”

“What did you feel when you killed your father?”

If Ren didn’t have Hux’s full attention before, he has it now.

“Excuse me?”, Hux asks indignantly, convinced he misheard.

“When you told Phasma to kill him. What did it feel like?”

“I did no such thing. My father has vanished, disappeared after--”

“There’s no need to deny it. I have sensed it years ago. You were brimming with pride, mentally gloating over your success, congratulating yourself, before your mind never strayed there again. You truly hated him.”

Hux had put so much effort into forgetting. He had perfected the art of denying this, even to himself. At times it still feels like his father is out there somewhere, judging Hux’s decisions from afar, which makes it even easier for Hux to believe the lie he’s telling everyone else. But Hux had seen the results of Phasma’s work himself, a sight he sometimes wishes he could relive.

“Then you already know how I felt about it.”

“No, I… may have sensed this, but it’s superficial. What I need to know is how it felt in detail, and what came after.”

 _“Why?_ And what makes you think I’d want to talk about that?”

“Your father controlled you. His shadow kept you from growing, he was preventing you from evolving. He was your mentor, but his guidance was never meant to make you fit to take his place one day. He made you believe you could get nourishment from him when all he had to offer was venom. Each of his words of wisdom was meant to manipulate you. But you broke free.”

Ren pauses to look at Hux before he adds: “How?”

Hux thinks, tries to understand what Ren is getting at, tries to see why Ren would bring up Brendol Hux just _now._ So Ren knew all along, could have used this information to seriously damage Hux’s reputation within the First Order - but didn’t, for some reason.

Then, Hux almost gasps in sudden astonishment as it dawns on him that for Ren, this might not be about Brendol Hux or Han Solo at all.

Maybe this is Ren’s way of asking for help. For _instructions_ on how to follow Hux’s example and break free from what’s holding him back _._

“I need you to tell me how you managed to cut out this huge part of your life”, Ren continues with a straight face, “and what you felt after doing so.”

The chilly air stings in Hux’s lungs when he takes a deep breath.

“The hardest part wasn’t the deed itself. I didn’t even carry it out myself, as you know, I tasked Phasma with getting rid of him. It’s true I hated him, but still I craved something from him I didn’t know he’d never give me. He was my mentor after all, and even though he was distant and ashamed of me it felt like he taught me everything I know. But the loss of his guidance was not nearly as difficult to deal with as I had anticipated. It was the process of _understanding_ the necessity of his death that took the most effort. Comprehending that killing him would be an inevitable step to take because he was holding me back, finally seeing that I had to dispose of something I thought I couldn’t do without.”

Ren soaks up Hux’s words like a sponge and his commitment is almost infectious. He sits perfectly still, waiting for Hux to go on.

“I was never entirely sure about any of it, if that’s what you’re asking. I was at no point completely convinced that it was the right thing to do. I was never exactly _conflicted,_ but I was never truly _ready_ either. It took me a while to realize that you never are. You’re never fully, doubtlessly ready for anything, but that shouldn’t keep you from doing it. It’s all about meticulous planning - about mentally elaborating not only one, but several ways a plan of yours could go. No outcome will surprise you, because you’ve already thought of it long beforehand. There will always be one last, unerasable spark of doubt. You have to make it look like a puny candle flame in comparison to the blazing bonfire that is your plan of action.”

Hux is aware of how pretentious that must sound to Ren, but is surprised by the lack of petulance in his reaction. There’s no condescending eye-roll, only openly displayed interest in what Hux is saying. Talking to Ren is disturbingly _easy_ now that there’s less… ill intent on both sides.  

“In the end, it was a single phrase that made me put all doubts aside and work up a plan of action with Phasma. One, pathetic little phrase. It’s ridiculous really, to think that it came out of his own mouth.”

“What did he say?”

“I came to his personal quarters on the Finalizer, the ones that now belong to me, and reported a bug that had occured in some of our C1 comlinks. Some of the devices had proven to be incapable of properly receiving weak signals, which had led to distorted transmissions and thus falsified data exchange while communicating with confidential informants. It was a major problem, so I was accordingly anxious and in need of a convenient solution. I asked him what should be done about it, and he said: ‘The technology is outdated, we’re replacing the coms with the newer model.’ I waited for him to elaborate, but that was his finished reply. At first, I argued. I told him we couldn’t replace all the devices just like that, said that this was a decision that would have a great impact on the years to come, that a vast part of the First Order communication relied _heavily_ on these comlinks, that this procedure would need thorough planning to avoid major complications such as misunderstandings or network outages. I told him it would take _time_ for people to acquaint themselves with the new technology - which was on top of it all hilariously expensive - and that this was time we did not have. Do you know what he had to say to that?”

Again, Ren patiently bides. Hux notes that the air has started to fog with each of their exhales.

“Nothing. He had absolutely nothing to add, not even when I finally made my leave. It was by all means not the first time I’d been dismissed by him like that, but there was something about that last statement of his that stuck with me after leaving his chambers. I felt _validated._ Not regarding the comlinks, but in terms of my thoughts about him. I couldn’t have put it better - changes had to be made. The old had to make way for the new. A notion so obvious and simple my father could pronounce it without even looking up from his paperwork.”

“So you _did_ know killing him was the right thing to do.”

“No. I know that _now,_ but back then I had to convince myself of it until it was done. I couldn’t know what would happen after that and whether everything would go according to plan. Whether there would be an equivalent to _disorientation, misunderstandings and network outages_ in a life without my father, whether I’d fail to adjust to it. All I had was the conviction that I was the _new_ that had to replace the _outdated._ If my father could be so careless about a decision of this gravity, so could I.”

“And you were successful. Obviously.”

“In that sense, yes. I’m glad to be rid of him.”

“How can you-- have you never felt even a hint of remorse? Have you at no point felt… I don’t know. _Lost?”_   

Hux hums as he tries to think of something clever to say, perhaps something that would sound less like piteous whining, but decides to go with the truth.

“I haven’t. Orientation and autonomy have always been two of my greatest strengths, and ironically it was _him_ who taught me - spending a considerable part of my childhood locked up in dark rooms and perceiving the world mostly through swollen eyes allowed me to perfect the art of taking care of myself, and of enduring even the most unpromising situations. He didn’t make it very hard for me to live guilt-free after his untimely death.”

Something shifts in the air when Ren is too silent, suddenly - Hux finds himself unable to hold Ren’s somewhat scandalized gaze and resumes observing the landscape, not really searching for anything in particular.

“He--”, Ren attempts, but silences himself when he seems to be realizing that Hux isn’t interested in discussing this topic.

“His education did make me resilient, despite my obvious physical inferiority in combat. You could say that ultimately, I took from my father what was of use to me and disposed of the worthless rest. In a way he was one of many - just another _someone_ occupying a seat that had my name on it.”

“When I killed Han Solo”, Ren starts, a change in his demeanor immediately palpable, “the feeling of _your_ pride came forth from the back of my mind. I talked myself into believing that this kind of pride was just within reach for me as well. But what I felt after murdering him was nothing like the outcome you described. I did it, I killed my mentor, but it’s not empowering me, it’s tearing me apart.”

“It might have been the wrong mentor.”

It’s quiet. When Hux dares checking for Ren’s reaction, he finds Ren eyeing him like he’s a lost cause.

“I think you underestimate the intensity of Snoke’s connection to my mind. He senses every move, every thought of mine, and while I have been taught methods that allow me to shield my thoughts at times, _you_ are like an open book to him. He knows how to read me without making his presence known. He might be listening _right now.”_

And then, Hux says the very first thing that comes to his mind.

“I guess.”

Ren blinks. Hux knows he’s getting angry even before it’s starting to become apparent in his expression.  

 _“I guess?_ Have you _actually_ lost your mind? How can you talk about this so frivolously? Your life may be safe until we’ve finished the mission, but I can’t believe you’re completely ignoring what might happen _after_ that. Snoke might let you live, but what kind of life would that be if he heard what you just said?”

Hux sighs in feigned irritation, smothering the part of him that wants to believe Ren said this because he disagrees with the horrors Snoke has potentially planned for Hux.

“I might have an idea or two. Ren, there will always come new circumstances to adjust to, fortunately I’m adaptable. I must admit that the pain I was in in that vision was one of a kind, but I’ll manage, just like I always have.”

“I know you’re afraid. You shouldn’t cover it up with recklessness, not when it comes to Snoke.”

“I’m not being reckless, I’m being rational. I already know how powerful he is, I already _know_ he’s holding the whip hand and my situation is dire. Just leave handling this to me and be glad you’re off the hook. You’re afraid too, and that’s reasonable - but _you_ haven’t done anything to betray him, at least nothing that he wouldn’t forgive. Deal with that privilege in whatever way you like.”

It’s obvious that Ren wants to argue and deny this, but his silence indicates he knows Hux is right. They’re both in unenviable positions, but they both know it’s Hux who’s by far worse off. Hux’s frustration with Ren is growing - he wants to take back what he said about not pressuring Ren into making up his mind. One second he thinks Ren might be close, taking things into consideration, becoming self-aware, and the next second his fear of Snoke takes hold of him again. Even though Hux seems to have had more influence on Ren than he thought, it’s still not enough. Hux wonders whether he’s too greedy, asking for too much, before he reminds himself that it’s impossible to ask for less. He needs Ren to choose his side if he wants to stay alive. It’s all or nothing now, but Ren’s state of mind is too fragile to issue an ultimatum. Straight up _asking_ him to choose would be a risk too great to take.

The sight of Ren observing his hands in his lap while looking like every thought that crosses his mind is physically draining unsettles Hux. It reminds him of when Ren sat back on his heels in the tent, shame reddening his face while he listened to Hux calling him out on his inexperience. Right after Ren took him apart, and right before Hux proceeded to pay him back. The memory makes Hux shiver involuntarily.

“I think I could help you”, Ren says, interrupting Hux’s thoughts.

There’s a short moment where Hux thinks Ren has somehow sensed where Hux’s mind was straying and is referring to it with this offer, and the idea immediately makes his pulse spike. A tentative _Do you?_ Is already on the tip of Hux’s tongue when he realizes that Ren can’t spy on his thoughts and that he might be talking about an entirely different topic.

“Help me with what?”

“The visions. You aren’t supposed to suffer while experiencing them - there shouldn’t be any forms of nausea or migraine in the process, it’s very unusual. It may have to do with your weak attunement to the Force, but I’m sure that’s not actually the main contributing factor. I can’t help you prevent the visions completely, that’s beyond my power, but I could try to teach you how to experience them in a less painful way.”

For a few seconds, Hux is speechless. Partly because of the way his heart is leaping at the idea of making these visions a little more bearable, but mostly because he’s genuinely curious what Ren would get out of doing this for Hux.

“Have you done something like that before?”

“Not exactly. But I don’t see any downsides to it, really.”

“You’d be meddling with my mind, I imagine? You can’t tell me that’s entirely free of risk.”

“I’d teach you meditation. Or, an abridged version of it.”

Hux snorts. He wants to shake his head in disbelief, barely manages to repress the notion.

His reaction clearly offends Ren, who looks at Hux like a child robbed of his favourite toy.

“How can you still ridicule this after everything you’ve been through?”, Ren asks accusingly, narrowing his eyes when Hux can’t keep a perplexed smile from spreading on his face.

“That’s not it, not at all. I just can’t believe I’m not only inclined, but eager to try this. A few weeks ago I would have rather chopped my own arm off and now - look at me. Ready to have my _mind altered.”_

Ren’s face softens.

“Oh.”

“Just make sure there won’t be any lasting damage.”

“I won’t actually _alter_ your mind or mess with your thoughts. I’ll show you a way of expanding your consciousness.”

“Like a drug?”

“No, not-- well, partially. Imagine your mind is a static lake. The visions penetrating your mind are a diver. If the diver’s jumping into the still water from a certain height at a certain angle, the surface tension can make the impact very painful. However, if you were to activate a fountain - or some sort of aeration pump - at the bottom of the lake, the movement of the water would break up the surface tension, the impact would be softened and the intrusion would be a lot more bearable.”

“And you’re helping me activate the aeration pump.”

“Yes. I’ll essentially teach you how to make your mind more receptive to this particular kind of external influence.”

“That sounds like you’re making me even more _weak-minded_ than I already am.”  

The playful bite in Hux’s tone puts a sly smile on Ren’s face.

“I’m positive that’s impossible.”

“But honestly, won’t that make me an even easier target? I don’t like the idea of opening the door for Snoke, I’m not exactly keen on inviting him in.”

“It won’t make any difference for _him._ He’ll find his way into your mind one way or another, it’s not like your mind’s defensive walls are much of an obstacle to him now. But the resistance of your untrained mind is the cause of the pain, so you can either toughen yourself against it or keep suffering through the visions.”

Hux feels like he should mull over this a lot more than he’s willing to. The suspicion and the disdain he used to harbour towards anything Force-related is still there, desperately begging not to be cast aside. It all sounds so easy, the way Ren explains it, but Hux is solidly convinced that there will be a lot more to it in practice. Something tells him that accepting this offer is a mistake, that it’s a decision that’ll bear consequences Hux can’t calculate.

Then again, it’s been a while since Hux could confidently rely on his calculations. The situations he’s been thrust into recently are beyond anything Hux could have foreseen, and this meditation exercise will be no exception. There’s another dimension to why allowing this to happen would be wise - rejecting Ren would be a step backwards from what Hux is trying to achieve. It might destroy the fragile connection that Hux believes has built up between them.

“I’d be a fool not to do everything I can to be prepared. I’d like to steel myself against what’s coming for me.”

When Hux searches Ren’s face then, his head starts swimming slightly as he recognizes what he’s seeing - it’s the spark of something Hux couldn’t place just a few hours ago in the forest, now back even brighter and clearer. _You amaze me_ shoots through Hux’s head in Ren’s voice, _You’re mad, and it fascinates me._ The praise alights on Hux’s brain like a soothing fog, shrouding it momentarily.

“What?”, Hux says mockingly after realizing that Ren hasn’t answered him, “Changed your mind?”

Ren tries to blink the spark away but it’s no use.

“I’m aware of your reservations about my methods. But you’ve made the right decision.”

As far as Hux is concerned, this should be Ren’s default way of looking at him from now on.   

“I don’t have much to lose, have I?”

Ren glances down at the river, the spark beginning to dim slowly.

“No”, he says solemnly, “I guess not.”


	16. Chapter 16

To anyone who knows anything about General Armitage Hux of the First Order at all, the idea of him sitting cross-legged on the ledge of a mountain in the middle of nowhere would be abstruse.

The idea that he’s also sitting across from Kylo Ren, mirroring him in posture, would most likely be so far-fetched to them that they wouldn’t believe it if they saw it with their own eyes.

But the idea of Hux being about to _willingly_ take part in one of Ren’s spiritual hypnosis rituals would make them straight up question their sanity. Probably Hux’s sanity, too.

Fortunately, no one’s here to witness what Hux has agreed to do. There’s only Ren, who seems to have overestimated his own skills as an instructor. While he appeared to be very eager about the whole matter the second Hux accepted his offer, he now switches between looking mildly excited and extremely uncomfortable.

The mere process of sitting down opposite each other had been as awkward as it was possible to get, which had made Hux worry slightly about the rest of this exercise. It isn’t even entirely Ren’s fault - instead of focusing on the task at hand, Hux can only put effort into repressing the exhaustingly vivid memories of Ren marvelling at him, Ren explaining things to him, Ren touching him. It’s hard to look Ren in the eye when the bite mark on Hux’s shoulder starts burning for no apparent reason as he does so, and it’s even harder to listen to Ren explaining something when all he can hear are the sounds Ren made when--

Well.

In sum, Hux’s thoughts have rarely ever been in such a disarray. Maybe it’s the fear of Ren _seeing_ all of this in case something goes wrong and Ren gets past Hux’s mysterious mind shield by accident. Maybe Hux’s mind conjures these images all the more because he’s trying so hard to banish them.

“... to do before you take a deep breath and-- Hux? Are you listening?”

No, Hux is not listening.

Ren’s insecure look turns sour.

“Look, there’s no point in trying if you don’t even--”

“I _am_ listening! This is just - this is a lot. If you… if you could repeat that last bit, that’d be great.”

Probably due to not being used to hearing Hux fumble for words like that, Ren is taken aback for a second before he evens out his expression in what appears to be resignation.

“I’ll start over.”

Hux is sure his face must have gotten a fiery shade of red. He hates failing, even if it’s at a thing he doesn’t actually care about.

“Now, a vital part of this is that you not only consent to it, but _believe_ in it. You have to want it to successfully affect you and trust that it will. It’s a good precondition that you’re familiar with that, since you’ve already experienced this sort of mental preparation when the old Mirialan healed you. Concentrate on what you did last time - what was your technique again? I believe you said that to get yourself into it, you pretended it was _I_ who healed you?”

Now _that_ was just to get back at Hux for being inattentive. Hux hates the smug look on Ren’s face and the fact that he knows so well how to make Hux’s blood boil.

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“I assume it will be a lot easier for you this time, then. You already know the feeling of my presence, mentally and physically.”

Hux wants to scream.

“Nothing’s ever _easy_ when you’re involved, Ren.”

“That’s a notion you should put aside for this”, Ren replies unwaveringly, sounding too reasonable and unaffected for Hux’s liking.

There’s nothing Hux can say to that because _I can’t_ is not an option.

“So. The first step is to adjust your breathing. It’s not only about inhaling air, it’s about setting up a constant rhythm that will keep you balanced throughout the exercise. You should not stress about not being able to keep it up, but it would be optimal if you could settle on one particular pattern and stick with it. You can adopt mine if that helps.”

“Alright.”

No words could adequately express how out of place Hux feels in this moment. He knows the sentiment is most counterproductive, and yet he can’t let go of it.

There’s a short pause in which something is clearly holding Ren back. He appears mildly conflicted over something, judging by the way he carefully studies Hux. Some seconds pass in tense silence, leaving Hux’s stomach tightening in anticipation.

What Ren does next makes Hux appreciative of the fact that he’s sitting down. Lightheadedness overcomes him as he watches Ren extend both of his bare hands, letting them hover calmly in the small space between them.

The palms are facing upwards, inviting, fingers unfurled just far enough for Hux’s own to fit. Two large, pale spots against the dark, rocky ground.

Understanding what Ren is asking him to do blanks Hux’s mind for a split-second.

His gaze lingers on Ren’s palms for a while longer before it flicks back to Ren’s eyes.    

Ren’s look of utter strain is practically _begging_ Hux to show mercy and resolve this unfortunate situation, which only arouses a spitefully petty part of Hux that tells him to do the exact opposite thing and let Ren suffer.

“Will that really be necessary?”  

It pays off instantly.   

First, Ren looks insulted, colour rising to his cheeks, then there’s a hint of something that could be embarrassment, which then turns into his usual, unadulterated anger to cover up everything that’s crossed his face before it.  

“Actually _yes,_ that will be necessary since at least one of us is as Force-sensitive as a _droid_ and will need that connection to properly perform the exercise, but I guess if that’s already too much to ask we may as well _quit_ all this right here and--”

“Ren, don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t being serious. There.”

Hux reaches out and swiftly snatches Ren’s already retracting hands.

As soon as Hux’s hands have closed around Ren’s, both their gazes instinctively shoot down to where the contact has been made.

Even though Hux is sure it can’t have actually been that long since he touched someone else’s hand without his gloves on, he does have trouble coming up with a recent memory of such an incident. All the hands he’d touched in the past had been shaken in greeting, farewell or the conclusion of a contract, and every time it had been done with a thin layer of leather separating Hux’s hand from the other.

And now he remembers why he’d always insisted on this subtle way of keeping a safe distance - this kind of touch is intimate in a way that makes Hux queasy. It doesn’t feel like an interaction that’s intended for him to partake in.

The press of Ren’s hands is strengthening and weakening Hux at the same time - warmth is starting to spread where the weather has left bitter coldness. Ren’s tightening grip does nothing to diminish the softness of his skin.

Hux hadn’t expected it to feel like that.

“Good”, Ren continues after he’s managed to wipe that nonplussed look off his face, “now I can’t guarantee there will be an immediate effect since I’ve never tried teaching this to someone who’s not Force-sensitive. But I have an idea of how it could work. You’ll have to close your eyes when I tell you, and as soon as they’re closed it’s very important that you do _not_ open them again until we’re done. It’s essential you focus _entirely_ on my voice.”

“Okay.”

“You might occasionally be overwhelmed by alien, somewhat unsettling sensations, but don’t let them distract you.”

“Like a weird tingling bordering on numbness in my hands?”

“...No.”

“Then you might be squeezing them too hard.”

Ren frowns angrily at that, but loosens his grasp on Hux’s hands anyway.

“The sensations won’t feel external - if there will be any at all, that is. It won’t feel like someone’s making you feel them, they’ll stir from within. You’ll realize as soon as it happens, you won’t be able to compare it to any other sensation you’ve experienced.”

“That sounds disconcerting.”

“Don’t worry”, Ren says with so much certainty that it’s actually enough to reduce Hux’s nervousness, “meditation can’t harm you. I will be guiding you the entire time, and if you should feel like aborting the session you can simply say so. Also, the moment you let go of my hands, the connection breaks and you’ll wake up.”

Hux only nods. It all sounds much too simple, too _ordinary._ Something so sinister shouldn’t be so easy to understand.

“That’s-- is that all?”

“You’re about to see. But for now, yes. If you’re ready you can go ahead and close your eyes.”

Ren’s neutral face then disappears behind Hux’s eyelids.

The wait for instructions is already making Hux antsy.  

“Now. Sync your breathing with mine and channel your concentration into convincing yourself that this will work, that you’ll be just fine-”

“Are you closing your eyes too or are you watching me?”

“Is that honestly something you’re concerned about right now?”

Yes, it is.

“No, it’s not. Forget I asked.”

“They’re closed, Hux. I’m not examining you to check if you’re performing well, that’s not what this is about.”

Hux curses Ren mentally for instantly guessing what he was thinking, even before Hux had admitted this particular worry to himself.

As he can’t think of a good comeback, Hux starts following Ren’s instructions and focuses. With every passing second he becomes more aware of his senses - first, he concentrates on the warm pressure of Ren’s hands around his and a cold wind gust hitting his exposed face, making his skin prickle. His inner eye is still showing him a picture of Ren sitting across from him. The air smells fresh, clean, and Hux recognizes the smell as that of oncoming snowfall. It’s silent except for the very faint rush of the river below and the sound of Ren’s breaths, which becomes louder as Hux puts more effort into focusing on it.

He adjusts his own breathing to be consonant with Ren’s and finds it to be surprisingly soothing, almost therapeutic.

“Okay. Now this is one of the hardest parts of meditation - try to think of nothing at all. Clear your mind completely. Try to forget about everything that currently bothers you and forget about where you are _physically._ Distance yourself mentally from your physical form until your mind is in a different place than your body.”

It sounds absurd. _Absurd._ But somehow Hux knows exactly what Ren is saying, like he’s told Hux a thousand times.

The image of Ren fades away until only darkness is left. The icy wind dies down until the only thing Hux can feel is the warmth of his palms. The murmur of the river softens until it’s only the sound of Hux’s own even breathing filling his ears.

“Just like that”, Ren’s voice resonates within Hux’s head, and the trace of disbelief in it pleases Hux immensely.

“Now think of the place Snoke summons you to in your visions, put in as many details as you can.”

That’s easy - there’s not much Hux could get wrong when it comes to recreating that place. It’s frightening, but it’s dull. Hux thinks of the black, limitless surroundings and the black, sleek surface beneath his feet.

“Open your eyes when you’re done.”

Hux wants to protest. Didn’t Ren explicitly tell him to keep his eyes _shut?_

He obeys reflexively before he can ask Ren about it.

When Hux opens his eyes and finds himself standing in the middle of the familiar black void, he understands what Ren has told him before: This is unlike anything he’s ever felt.

It feels like opening a second pair of eyes - like Hux has gained control over his inner eye, the one people aren’t supposed to be able to shut from a biological perspective.

“That’s exactly what happened”, Ren replies as though Hux had said that out loud. His voice is all around Hux, untraceable.

“Why aren’t you here?”, Hux asks gingerly, trying not to move.

This place makes him feel tiny.

“I am here. But I can be _visible,_ if you want me to be.”

“I’d prefer that.”

“It’s up to you. You can conjure me the same way you just conjured your surroundings.”

Slightly skeptical about the would-be simplicity of it, Hux experimentally squeezes his inner eye shut. He startles slightly when Ren is actually standing opposite him after it flies back open.

“This is--”, Hux stammers, not exactly sure where he wanted this to go, “I didn’t know I had such a vivid imagination.”

“You don’t. I’m helping.”

Ren looks around tentatively and Hux can tell that something is bothering him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I just thought there’d be… Really, it’s irrelevant.”

“No, it’s not. Thought there’d be _what?”_

Ren sighs.

“I was just surprised to be able to hear some of your thoughts again. I expected to be met by some sort of wall because of the sound absorber-theory I told you about, but there’s… nothing. Not that it matters now, so we shouldn’t waste time on that and be glad there was no obstacle of that sort.”

Hux decides to accept that and trust Ren’s judgement.

The fear of Ren getting past his mind shield was so real only a few moments ago, and now that it came true Hux can’t bring himself to fret about it anymore. It’s ridiculous.

“Okay, so what do I do now that I’m here?”

Ren looks at Hux with his brows raised.

“I think you’ve missed the point.”

“What? But--”

“Did you feel nauseous while getting here? Is your head aching?”

“No.”

“There you have it.”

“But I induced this myself. Isn’t it a different thing when Snoke does it? Without warning?”

“You didn’t induce this - I did. All you did was give me a template. I’m trying to show you that even though I intruded from the outside, it’s still _your mind._ You may have little control over who enters it when the intruder is a dedicated Force-user, but you can still accommodate it to receive them without suffering. You just learned how to open and close your inner eye, meaning that you now have a lot more control over what happens during a vision.”

Hux can’t argue with that. Mostly because he doesn’t feel qualified to do so, but also because Ren obviously knows what he’s talking about. After all, he’s breaking these things down in a way that makes them seem logical to _Hux._

Ren never promised more than this - it’s the sheer banality of this exercise that makes it seem like Hux has missed the _big reveal,_ or whatever he expected this would be about when he told Ren he’d try it.

“To be fair, I didn’t assume it would work so quickly. You might find this underwhelming, but that’s mainly because you figured it out, well, on the first try”, Ren adds, making sure to let it sound nonchalant.

“Your instructions were precise. That made it easier.”

That earns Hux a wide-eyed stare. Quite rightly, in Hux’s opinion - he’s not exactly known for being humble.

An uncomfortable silence spreads between them, pressuring Hux into talking.

“So if I understood correctly, I’m free to choose a setting for this? A different location, for example?”

“As long as Snoke’s not around to prevent you from doing so, yes.”

Within the blink of an eye, Hux finds Ren and himself standing on the bridge of the Finalizer.

Hux’s heart jumps immediately at the sorely missed sight; every detail is just the way he remembers it. A hesitant smile tugs at Hux’s lips. It’s not like Hux has been away from this place for years, but it very much feels like it now that he‘s standing here, watching each and every crew member attending to their respective tasks. There’s the quiet buzz of hushed voices passing on concise commands, all order and efficiency. Hux could keep standing here watching for hours.

Ren huffing a dry laugh rips Hux out of his spontaneous sentimentality.

“I should’ve known that _this_ is where you’d choose to go.”

Hux knows Ren is trying to mock him, but all Hux can think of is that if Ren had been a little more dedicated to his work from the start, Hux might have found him a lot more tolerable.

“Well I sure know where _you_ would like to go back to, Ren”, Hux shoots, blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, warm sunlight hits them.

The wind is howling as he and Ren are staring each other down in the middle of the cropgold field, golden dust swirling around in the warm, summery air.

Ren is standing just as close as Hux recalls it, and even the shame-reddened face is the same.

“What makes you--”, Ren starts, words failing him when Hux puts on a knowing expression, _“What_ makes you think that this is where--”

“I liked it more than I care to admit, you know. The look you gave me here. Like you enjoyed having me in your vision for the first time.”

This is very dangerous territory, but it’s true and Hux feels bold. It’s _his_ mind, after all. He approaches Ren, who seems to be rendered speechless by the absurdities Hux just dared to throw at him.

“I want to believe you”, Ren mutters, almost whispers this like it’s a confession that would cost him his life if anyone but Hux were to hear it.

Hux feels like it’s not a direct answer to what he said. It can’t be - it sounds too heavy and contains too much insecurity.  

It feels like one of his weakest moments when Hux is inexplicably drawn even closer to Ren, so close he has to look up to meet Ren’s now sorrowful eyes.

“That’s not enough.”

Hux frowns as he realizes he’s looking for an excuse to reach out and touch Ren, but the only false pretence he can come up with is to find out whether this mental projection of Ren is actually solid - and frankly, that’s not a very good one.

“I am solid.”

Damn him. Hux already longs to have his mind barrier back.

Then again, Hux thinks the loss of it might not be so bad after all when Ren extends a hand for Hux to take, saving him the trouble of asking.

While this exact gesture was an uncomfortable act of necessity just a few minutes ago, it’s now something else entirely.

Which is why Hux reaches for it without hesitation or a snide remark this time.

When their hands meet, it’s immediately becoming apparent that something is shifting.

It’s subtle at first - a gentle tug in Hux’s midriff, a soft pull in his chest, a distant semblance of fatigue.

Hux tries to block it out, unwilling to be ripped out of this moment, but soon these sensations intensify to an uncomfortable degree and Hux feels cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. His grip on Ren’s hand tightens unintentionally and he bends over slightly.

“Ren, I think something’s--”, he gasps, but stops at seeing Ren’s equally pained expression.

“Hux, open your eyes. Your _real_ eyes.”

“I’m trying, I--”

“Do it, now!”

The golden fields start spinning before Hux can even begin to form a reply, making him lose all sense of orientation. The world blurs until Hux’s only point of reference is his now claw-like grip on Ren’s hand. His eyes fall shut - he can’t determine which pair exactly - to somehow escape this vortex, and darkness surrounds him temporarily.

And then, as though on demand, it’s as if someone switches on the lights and the world comes to a halt.

Hux sucks in a deep, panicked breath at the sudden disappearance of every ill sensation that just assaulted him.

Being free of them and the realization that Ren is still standing in front of him is a slight relief. Despite Ren looking outright sick, Hux is glad that apparently nothing more serious has happened here.

That is until he takes a look around and becomes aware of something extremely alarming.

“I don’t know this place.”

All colour has drained from Ren’s face when Hux searches it and there’s a silent terror in his eyes that drives Hux mad with panic.

“Ren, what _happened?_ This is _my mind,_ why can I not _recognize_ where we are?” 

Ren’s eyes then focus on something behind Hux, growing impossibly wider.

“This is not your mind”, Ren says, voice uncharacteristically meager, “It’s mine.”

“Why did you--”

Hux stops when realization hits him.

The lump in his throat aches as he swallows thickly.

Ren didn’t do this.

Not waiting for Ren to comment on it, Hux turns around to see what has caught Ren’s attention.

There, on a massive seat that’s carved out of the stone wall behind it sits Snoke, looking down on a hunched, black lump at the ground before him. A flight of stairs separates the two figures. The room Hux is looking at seems to be part of a cave - these might be the insides of a temple, or some other location that’s deliberately hard to discover.

Hux’s mind is reeling. He’s no longer moving within his own mind, which makes every piece of advice Ren just gave him practically useless.

As Hux starts approaching the scene, feeling distinctly compelled to do so, the black heap at the lower end of the stairs takes shape. It’s the back of Kylo Ren, one knee bent in deferential submission. His helmet lies on the ground next to him.

All of this is frighteningly realistic - Hux can practically feel the moist air dampen his skin. This room weighs down on Hux even though it’s rather large and has a high ceiling, makes him feel trapped like he’s buried under invisible layers of earth and stone. The air is cold and stale and a dizzying tension fills it, making each inhale a challenge.

 _It’s not real,_ Hux reminds himself and he stops in his tracks to focus on the back of Ren’s head, _not real, not real, not real._

“Is this a memory of yours, Ren? Do you recall this?”, Hux asks hesitantly, looking back over his shoulder to check for Ren’s reaction.

Ren, however, is gone.

“No”, Hux breathes into the void behind him, proper fear now beginning to constrict his throat and push him close to reaching maximum heart rate.

He attempts to find access to his eyes, his _real_ eyes, tries to gain control over his real hands when that doesn’t work, but all he feels is paralysing anxiety and the rapidly dying connection to his body on the mountain ledge.

His head snaps back to the unmoving memory of Ren that’s kneeling in front of Snoke.

“Ren!”, Hux calls out desperately, immediately realizing the utter idiocy of that idea.

Of course neither Snoke nor Ren so much as flinch at Hux’s pathetic shout. After all, Hux is only observing something that already happened.

From where Hux is standing, he can’t estimate Ren’s age - his hair certainly looks the way it does now, a little more groomed and healthy if anything. His head is bowed while Snoke’s scrutinizing gaze lingers on him, wrinkly mouth pressed into a thin line like he’s considering his next words. Hux shudders at the sight of his malformed face, heart slamming as he waits for something to happen.

_“Kylo Ren, I watched the Galactic Empire rise, and then fall. The gullible prattle on about the triumph of truth and justice, of individualism and free will. As if such things were solid and real instead of simple subjective judgments. The historians have it all wrong. It was neither poor strategy nor arrogance that brought down the Empire. You know too well what did.”_

Hux watches Ren nod once.

_“Sentiment.”_

_“Yes. Such a simple thing. Such a foolish error of judgment. A momentary lapse in an otherwise exemplary life. Had Lord Vader not succumbed to emotion at the crucial moment—had the father killed the son—the Empire would have prevailed.”_

Ren says nothing in reply.

_“This scavenger girl resisted you.”_

_“That’s all she is, yes. A scavenger from that inconsequential Jakku. Completely untrained, but strong with the Force. Stronger than she knows.”_

_“You have compassion for her.”_

Hux takes a step closer, which doesn’t add up with the fact that all he wants to do is run from this.

_“No - never. Compassion? For an enemy of the Order?”_

_“Kylo Ren. It appears that a reminder is in order.”_

_“Supreme Leader--”_

_“As it seems, you do not learn from your past mistakes. Your will has grown soft despite my guidance, and teaching you the same lessons over and over again is becoming tiresome.”_

Expecting Ren to speak up and defend himself, Hux prepares for the argument that will surely ensue - but nothing happens. Ren kneels in silence, listens patiently to Snoke scolding him like a boy.

_“How often have you told me you would not be seduced again? I have lost count of the times I thought you would one day become as powerful as I, only to be disappointed by yet another failure. I have taught you everything I know, and this is how you repay me.”_

Witnessing this would have delighted Hux beyond reason only a while ago, and now it makes him sick. He doesn’t want to see it, wants to wake up to be sure none of it is actually happening, but as hard as Hux tries he can’t unplug himself from Ren’s mind without his help.

 _“You continue to develop compassion for the entirely wrong people - the ones undeserving of it. The ones who would never feel the same compassion for you. You’re drawn to them like a moth is drawn to the torch. Your classmates ridiculed and underestimated you, and you felt remorse for killing them. Your father never cared for you, left you on your own when you needed him, and killing him broke your spirit. The scavenger girl feels nothing for you but unabashed repulsion, and you want to teach her”_ , Snoke continues with an eerie calm, pauses shortly.

“And now you take pity on a man that wants to kill you.”

Hux’s entire body freezes. He can’t tear his eyes away from the back of Ren’s head. Ren is still unresponsive.

“Ah, I see. I see - you think his mind has changed. You believe he wouldn’t go as far as that to be in charge. But you, my young apprentice, have not seen the glint of pure joy in General Hux’s eyes as I tasked him with assassinating you. You have not heard the eagerness in his voice, not the dread of failing me.”

With growing horror it dawns on Hux that this is not a memory any longer. He has no idea what else it has transformed into, but watching it feels different, more solid. _Contemporary._

The rush of his own blood in his ears almost causes Hux to miss Snoke’s next words.

“You have given in once again, failed in the very same way you have failed all those times before. And how excellently his tricks have worked on you - the general truly is a master of words. A brilliant act that leaves me most impressed. Perhaps I should grant him more authority when he returns, _he_ at least places value in my words.”

Hux grits his teeth. It’s more than Snoke has ever been willing to give. He must know that Hux has always been very prone to praise, _Snoke’s_ praise in particular. While a tiny, treacherous part of Hux still brims with pride, a great bitterness outweighs any sense of true satisfaction. Hux was a fool to believe Snoke meant any of it - his praise has been a _device_ back then as much as it is one now.

When Hux tries to speak up, the words stay stuck in his throat.

“But now, Kylo Ren, it is time to banish him from your mind.”

Holding his breath, Hux watches Snoke’s calm expression turn menacing.

“Rise.”

When Ren doesn’t obey immediately, Snoke languidly lifts his right hand.

“I said, _rise!”_

Ren is pulled to his feet abruptly, the surprisingly swift movement eliciting a groan from him.   

“I have not given up on you. Show me my faith in you is not misplaced. Free yourself of what weighs you down, let go of what tortures you and _cut_ the strings he’s tied you to.”

With that, Snoke’s unrelenting gaze shifts away from Ren and lands on Hux.

Hux doesn’t immediately understand what’s happening. It’s just after Ren turns around calmly, deactivated lightsaber in hand and eyes just as fixed on Hux as Snoke’s, that his stomach drops and realization hits.

Trying to take a step backwards, Hux finds he can’t move. He’s held in place by what he knows is the Force, limbs trembling as he struggles against it.

Ren starts to approach him and Hux is forced to his knees. His legs crack quietly as they hit the hard ground, a shock of pain searing through them.

The closer Ren gets, the clearer Hux can see that something strange is happening to his face - it transforms in quick jumps like a glitching hologram, switching between displaying a younger, healthier, unscarred Ren and Ren’s face the way it looks now, hollowed out and tired. Anger radiates off him in waves as he comes to a stop right in front of Hux.   

“Good”, Snoke encourages Ren from behind, “Concentrate on your anger. Channel it. Remember what’s been done to you.”

 _Don’t,_ Hux thinks emphatically, his ability to speak apparently taken from him. There’s nothing Hux could say in his own defense anyway - Hux _did_ agree to killing Ren, and Hux’s change of heart will do nothing to gain back the scrap of Ren’s trust he just lost.

Everything he could say now would sound awfully hypocritical. _You would have done the same back then, I had no other choice, I enjoyed the idea initially but now I want us both to escape this._ It’s all true, but Ren wouldn’t believe it.

So instead, Hux looks Ren deep in the eye and hopes he can somehow witness his following thoughts.

_There is a way out, Ren. If we make it out of this alive, if we choose to join forces, if we break free, no one will be able to stop us. You have become more powerful than him, but he’s too arrogant to see it. I am not afraid of that, because I know you’re a force of nature - and forces of nature cannot be controlled. To him, you are a tremor that rattles the ground when he commands it to, but I know you are an earthquake that could leave the entire galaxy in ruins._

Ren must _feel_ that Hux means it, all of it, but if he does, his broken expression hides it.

He lifts the handle of his lightsaber until it’s pointing to Hux’s chest, a hand’s width away from colliding with it.

“My instincts have betrayed me. My judgment has been corrupted, I have been blind. I got caught up rabidly searching for a place to go, wondering where I belong, so much so that I failed to see you’d get rid of me the second I was no longer of use to you.”

Hux’s voice still won’t cooperate. He can move his lips, but no sound leaves them.  

“You manipulated me”, Ren spits, the undisguised disappointment in his voice making Hux feel like the lightsaber has already been ignited and is burning a hole in his chest.

“But now I’m done allowing it. You have been fooling me for long enough, it’s true - the time has come to wipe you from my mind--”

Ren interrupts, hateful tears now glistening in his eyes.

Close to fainting and through a blurry wall of excruciating panic, Hux then watches in disbelief as Ren lets the outstretched weapon drop back to his side before he adds:

“--Supreme Leader.”

The metallic clank of Ren’s lightsaber hitting the ground is deafening in the silence of the cave.

Everything that follows happens too fast for Hux to process.

Ren turns away from Hux in one, rapid motion, stretching out a hand in unison with Snoke.

Snoke cries out, yells something in anguished fury, and soon Ren starts screaming in agony, too - but it’s all drowned out by the roaring and crackling of the cave around them starting to shake and crumble. The walls tear open in places, boulders start hailing down from the ceiling.

Hux is released from the invisible grip and slumps down, vision bleary and cheek pressed to the ground as the room surrounding him collapses noisily.

Dust swirls up from beneath and above, falls down on Hux like soft rain, forces him to cough, burns in his eyes.

Hux barely feels the surge, is barely aware of it when the room starts spinning, and even after he rediscovers the connection to his body and rips his eyes open he has trouble making sense of the situation.

He hears himself giving a yelp and panting like the sounds don’t belong to him - for a moment he’s paralyzed, unable to move like his mind has not yet successfully wandered back into his body, but his eyes tell him he’s reconnected, alive, sitting on the mountain ledge again. They tell him that Ren is with him, coming back to his senses with a jolt.

Even though it’s gotten dark around them, Hux can see him very clearly.

Snow is falling, frozen flakes swaying gently as they descend from the night sky; It’s already covered the ledge like a luminous white carpet, reflecting the bright, blue moonlight. Stray snowflakes have caught in Ren’s hair and his eyelashes. He’s so pale that he blends right in with his snow-clad surroundings. His frantic breaths shroud him in quickly vaporizing wafts of mist.

Hux’s pulse is still raging, yet the sight of Ren seems to slow the world down.

There’s an intense ache somewhere in his body and it takes Hux a moment to locate it. He finds it in his hands - Ren is still holding onto them, unwittingly almost crushing them.

The snow swallows and dulls every other sound and Hux is hit by the sudden awareness that this might be the most surreal moment of his entire life.

Hux’s vision narrows like he’s in a tunnel. It grows hazy around the edges until the only thing he can discern sharply are Ren’s glassy, brown eyes and the unwanted tears now spilling from them. They’re wild, unfocused and confused, they’re shut briefly, and then they’re locking with Hux’s.

 _Forgive me_ crosses Hux’s mind, though where the thought came from or what exactly Hux is asking Ren’s forgiveness for is beyond him.

It’s his last thought before he rushes forward - or is it Ren pulling him? - to close the gap between them and crush his lips against Ren’s, capturing them in a demanding, messy kiss that’s fuelled by relief and unrestricted need.   

Ren’s face is wet and cold beneath Hux’s fingertips as he grabs it to steady both Ren and himself. Hux has been kissed before, but it seems those were only kisses by definition - Hux wouldn’t have let them count had he known that it could feel like _this,_ that a kiss was not in fact the mere press of lips but instead an arsenal of intoxicating sensations. A kiss, it appears, is also the warm pressure of hands around your waist, being pulled into someone’s lap like it’s a seat that’s been made to fit your shape, and shivers running down your spine as you feel the vibration of someone else’s approving hum tingling on your lips.

The combination of the pure adrenaline from before and Ren‘s response is overwhelming to the point of making Hux dizzy. Ren sighs softly against Hux’s moving lips, gasps shakily at the slightest brush of Hux’s tongue, leans into Hux like he’s willing to take everything he has to offer. Whenever Hux begins to think Ren’s had enough, Ren abruptly puts an end to such thoughts by taking a quick breath and reclaiming Hux’s mouth with even more fervour.

It’s breathtaking, metaphorically and literally, and if Hux ends up suffocating with Ren’s teeth scraping his lower lip and Ren’s cracked sighs in his ears then so be it. It’s an abject, piteous notion, but Hux wants to make this last forever.

He can’t, of course, and he won’t. They part soon enough, both equally out of breath and dishevelled, regarding each other silently while the snowflakes fluttering down between them grow thicker.   

Hux doesn’t know what significance this has, doesn’t know where it’ll go from here. He doesn’t know why he allows Ren to rest his head on his shoulder, why he can’t stop sticking to Ren like a magnet, why he carefully lets his hands wander down Ren’s shoulders until he finds himself entangled in an embrace.

All he knows is that in a moment of life-threatening insecurity, Ren chose him, and Hux has never been chosen before.

Hux came into this life by mistake, not by choice. He worked his way up by taking every chance he saw, not by relying on being chosen.

It’s pure irony that Ren should be the one to show Hux what it feels like. It’s preposterous yet so very fitting at the same time - of course it would be _Ren_ who’d find a way to tear Hux apart like this.

Hux wonders whether it was Ren's intention to give him something so good he’d feel undeserving of it.


	17. Chapter 17

“He’s not dead.”

Hux’s eyes fall shut - his lids feel heavier than ever and he almost sighs with relief when the tent around him disappears in the soothing darkness. The only thing worth seeing right now is Ren’s face anyway, and he can’t bring himself to look at it yet.

“Of course he’s not”, Hux replies flatly, wondering if Ren is questioning his intelligence.  

“He’s gone from my mind, though. I can’t know if it’s permanent, but for now I feel like the place he used to inhabit is empty. Your mind shield is still there, but it’s weakened, which is why I think he might be weakened, too. Maybe he’s pulled back a little to recharge. To come up with a new plan.”

“How did you do it?”, Hux asks, deciding that he would need to look at Ren after all, “How did he not see what you were up to?”

“I tricked my own mind into believing it was you I felt betrayed by, that you were the one I was going to banish. I… To be honest, I didn’t think it would work until I did it. It wasn’t very hard to direct all my anger and hatred at you, I used to do that almost daily.”

The smile that appears on Hux’s face is nearly fond. 

It fades again just as quickly as it had appeared when the question forces its way back to the forefront of Hux’s mind - the unsettling, nagging, but inevitable question Hux started asking himself the moment the warm pressure of Ren’s lips on his had been replaced by biting coldness. 

“Ren, I can’t help but wonder--”

Hux pauses, gets himself back up on his elbows and turns until he’s facing Ren properly. 

He had lain down immediately after they had gone to the tent, after they had both forced their weak legs to withstand the icy, sharp wind - untangling himself from Ren’s arms and wordlessly climbing off of his lap had been so surreal that Hux had almost crawled back on it just to escape having to deal with all the new sentiments assaulting him afterwards. However, the sight of Ren had then briskly snapped Hux out of his own embarrassment. Looking like he might throw himself off the ledge at any second, Ren had busied himself with staring at his nervous hands, eyes still round and miserable and afraid. That had been the moment Hux had decided they’re done with acting like this; The sight of Ren shivering in the snow had convinced Hux that it’s not cold indifference they’d need now, but something else. Something that would keep them warm. It had made Hux stretch out a hand for Ren to take, had made him help Ren get up and usher him into the calm warmth of the windless tent. 

Sleep had then nearly overcome Hux on the spot - but now the urge to talk about what happened keeps him from giving in to his exhaustion.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m. I’m  _ elated  _ at your decision and it was the only reasonable thing to do. But -”

The dread of making Ren change his mind forces Hux to search for words a second time. Hux is aware that it would be rather hard for Ren to backtrack now even if there were major doubts and insecurities on his part, yet he can’t rid himself of the sinking fear that he might destroy whatever they just built. 

“How could you spare me so easily after learning about my mission?”

Ren doesn’t answer right away. He tilts his head and looks down at his sleeping bag, thinks visibly while Hux grows more itchy with each passing second. Maybe Ren doesn't know why he made that decision. Maybe Hux wasn't actually a real choice at all - chances are he was nothing more than a spontaneous intuition. A gut feeling, or perhaps a knee-jerk reaction. Even though it would be enough, Hux hates to think of it that way.    
  
The expectant stare he directs at Ren remains unreciprocated.   
  
"Because I knew."   
  
The howling wind outside fills the ensuing silence. Hux blinks. He's so tired he can't properly take Ren's words in. They don't make sense, whichever way he twists them.  _ Knew what? _ is at the tip of his tongue, but then Ren continues.   
  
"I knew about your mission. I listened in on your conversation with Snoke before we left. At first I thought I wasn't supposed to know, but now I'm almost entirely sure Snoke was aware of my presence. He must have been. It was never really your betrayal that got to me, it was  _ his. _ The thought that he would dispose of me so easily. And to have  _ you _ do it, of all people - he was blatantly mocking me while I wanted nothing more than to please him and prove myself to him."   
  
Hux is listening intently, surprise must be written all over his face - but when he processes the last bit, the apparent stretch of the  _ you _ and the way Ren's lips curled into a condescending smile, Hux feels his amazed expression sober instantly.   
  
"Wait, what do you mean by that?"   
  
Ren looks at Hux like the answer to that is perfectly clear. Like Hux isn’t getting an obvious joke because he’s part of it.   
  
"He tasked  _ you. _ With assassinating  _ me." _   
  
His unnerving smile grows even wider. Ren's whole demeanor, Hux realizes, is absolutely infuriating for some reason.   
  
“What’s so amusing about that? You thought I wouldn’t do it?”    
  
“No, it's. It was less about the  _ wouldn't, _ and more about the  _ couldn't." _   
  
Hux doesn't care if he's gaping - something about this offends him immensely. It's not only what Ren says, it’s also the way he says it. It’s the lightness in his tone and his eyes that distinctly suggests the topic he addresses is anything but horrendous. While Hux had been worried sick for the most part of this mission, Ren has apparently brushed it off right at the beginning and not wasted any more thoughts on it at all.  _ Hux couldn’t kill me if his life depended on it. _

“Had you come up with a plan?”, Ren continues, oblivious to the fact that it might be best to just shut up, “How would you have proceeded?”

The look Hux shoots Ren is venomous. Hux hopes that it will prove Ren wrong and make him drop dead on the spot. 

“This is a joke to you. We just deceived Snoke to talk about this and all you can do is ridicule me.” 

The previous lightness starts to flee from Ren’s eyes then and he stays silent for a while. Hux adjusts himself to lay back down and turn away from Ren, fed up with his smug face. 

“Were you looking forward to it?”, Ren mumbles, making Hux reluctantly stop his movements. 

Hux looks at him over his shoulder in distaste. There’s still a trace of amusement in Ren’s expression, but his tone is underlyingly questioning, unsure. 

“Now that I know you think me incapable of it, yes. Maybe I  _ should _ have come up with a plan.” 

Ren’s smile fades. Hux can’t believe him, him and his moods. One moment he’s bursting with confidence to the point of being unpleasantly arrogant and the next he’s utterly insecure and vulnerable - it’s like he just hit puberty, or like he really is more than one person somehow. 

There aren’t many ways to deal with it, it’s close to impossible at times to appeal to every one of Ren’s facets at once, but from what Hux has gathered showing some understanding and being honest is a secure route to take. Hux shakes his head slowly, smiles weakly. 

“I might have enjoyed the idea initially, but at no point have I looked forward to executing it. You must be completely delusional to believe that this personal mission has given me anything other than sickening anxiety ever since Snoke burdened me with it.”

That makes Ren’s hands stop fidgeting and his tense jaw muscles slacken. Not another brazen word of mockery leaves him and Hux watches him get lost in thought. It’s a lot to process, Hux reminds himself. All of it.

“I heard your thoughts, in the vision. I agree”, Ren remarks quietly, as though to himself.

Hux nearly rolls his eyes. Ren does this a lot - jumping back and forth between his own thoughts, then continuing to voice them regardless of whether the person he’s talking to can follow. To Hux it used to be just another way in which Ren’s selfishness would manifest itself, but now he believes it’s the complexity of Ren’s mind that is to blame. What little Hux has seen of it was enough to convince him that it’s a messy, crowded, anxious place, and Hux can’t really blame Ren for getting lost in it every now and then. 

It’s irritating, but Hux can be patient. 

“You’ll have to be a bit more precise.”

“You said - thought - that if we chose to join forces, no one would be able to stop us. And I agree. Our strengths and weaknesses complement each other. Snoke kept us from realizing we would make an effective team, one that could overthrow him.”

_ Effective team.  _ Hux likes Ren’s choice of words so much that it sends shivers down his spine. He thinks back to when the old Mirialan had referred to Ren as Hux’s  _ friend  _ and makes no move to prevent his lips from curling into a sneer. 

“Remember this as the day we -”, Hux says mock-dramatically, expression softening and his voice dropping to a whisper,  _ “agreed on something.” _

Out of the corner of his eye Hux can see Ren’s amusement. It looks different when it’s genuine. Pleasant.

“I didn’t think agreeing with you would result in something like this”, Ren says before his hands start picking and clutching at his trousers again. They ball into fists, which makes Ren look like a newborn that just made it through a particularly stressful birth.

Something like this.

A question burns at the back of Hux’s throat, and Hux bets it’s the same question that’s paining Ren right now. He’ll never ask it, but it’s there, demanding Hux promptly have it answered. 

Does  _ something like this _ need a definition? 

_ No it doesn’t _ is Hux’s instant afterthought, and even though it isn’t very satisfying it ends every hint of further mental arguing right then. It’s all complicated enough as it is.

But what if giving this a name would help disentangle parts of this web of complexities? What if it helped ease the irrational, fluttery, smothering nervousness that Ren’s emotionally charged gazes keep inflicting on Hux, the kind of nervousness that’s sticky and exhausting like a too hot summer’s day? What if it helped them both get over themselves, loosen their minds and muscles that are rigid with anxiety more often than not these days? If it allowed them both to reach out for one another right now, the way they’re clearly both itching to do? 

Hux is laying flat on his back and realizes only now that Ren still sitting all tensed up makes him very uneasy. He wishes Ren would relax, lay down and get some sleep, but Hux would understand it just as well if Ren weren’t able to lay down and get some sleep for days to come. If only Ren would quit staring, if he would quit tempting Hux and wipe that silent craving from his eyes. Ren must be unaware of the effect it has on Hux - or he just enjoys making Hux suffer.

“Me neither”, Hux finally answers, replaces his view of Ren’s mouth with the dull ceiling of the tent and takes a stuttering breath.

The wind outside has grown unrelenting and the soft snowflakes have long transformed into tiny pellets of ice that now noisily patter against the tent’s exterior. The shallow cave they’ve pitched the tent in didn’t do much to protect them from this onslaught from above. Next to Hux, Ren lays down.

There’s something soothing about being inside during a storm, tucked into a warm bed - or a sleeping bag, in this case - and listening to the world outside going down while you are safe, at peace, your only task waiting for a dreamless sleep to give you a break from reality. It’s one of the few things Hux was appreciative of during his childhood; that and the tiny window in his room on Arkanis, from which he would watch the sun rise and set. He used to like stargazing, too. The stars and the sun were reliable companions, they were like the friends Hux didn’t have. In Hux’s opinion, their predictability and their inability to talk back at him and disagree with his ideas made them superior company, better than that of any living being.

“I think we might have gotten along, as children”, Ren’s voice suddenly sounds, startling Hux slightly.

“What?”, Hux asks in return, confusion making it sound a bit panicked, “Did you just-”

“I told you your mind shield is weakened. Some of your thoughts reach me, if I concentrate hard enough.” 

“Well then  _ don’t  _ concentrate!”

If Hux’s voice was panicked before, it’s unpleasantly shrill now. He can’t really say why exactly this is causing him such distress now, he just knows he’d like Ren to stay out of his mind,  _ entirely.  _

“Alright  _ relax,  _ I’ll stop. You’ve never minded it before.”

Hux wonders whether Ren is joking even though he knows exactly that this is just another thing Ren says because he means it, because he’s oblivious to so many basic facts about any form of interaction that doesn’t include the use of magic. 

Turning to his side to see Ren, Hux huffs indignantly.

“I  _ have  _ minded it, I’ve always  _ loathed  _ the very idea, Ren, I just didn’t say anything because I knew you  _ enjoyed  _ my irritation with you. You can’t tell me you thought I  _ didn’t mind  _ having you in my head, who in the world would be fine with something like that?”

Ren’s face is close - his hands seemingly couldn’t stand being apart from his trousers and have now started clutching the sleeping bag. Like they  _ need  _ to hold on to something, anything, or else they fall off. Hux’s anger ebbs away as Ren’s apologetic look coats it like honey, shrinks it until the anger is replaced with sympathy, sickly sweet and warm. 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” 

That extinguishes every last bit of Hux’s irritation, and even the uncomfortable sympathy gives way for tight, hot tension. Hux swallows, to his embarrassment, audibly.

It stresses Hux very much that he could be saying so many relevant things now, that he could be asking all these important questions, but instead there’s only the drum of thousands of frozen snowflakes hitting the tent and the sound of Hux’s own heavy breath in his ears. Instead of clear, intelligent thoughts, there’s only a row of pointless, frenzied worries, all of them revolving around whether Ren would mind if Hux inched a little closer and leaned in.

Hux sighs and banishes the thought. He’s always been great at denying himself certain things - even now that Ren’s affection is just within reach, Hux feels like it’s not his to have. 

“I don’t think we would have gotten along back then. I was always impatient with other children, I either looked down on them or I feared them. I don’t know which one would’ve applied to you.”

Ren smiles, and it’s not fair how easily it sets Hux’s system on fire.

“Maybe a little of both.”

Silence spreads again, but it feels a lot more bearable for some reason. 

They both fall asleep soon after, their mutual exhaustion having tangibly expanded and filled the whole tent before overpowering them almost simultaneously. 

Hux’s sleep starts out mildly uneasy, with many consecutive dreams that are all equally messy and confusing, just shapes and blurry memories that make no sense and leave the latent feeling of being lost in a world that doesn’t actually exist. It all soon evolves into a proper nightmare, absurd but still making Hux toss and turn unconsciously.

In his dream, Hux is running, paranoid and sick with fear. He’s sure he knows what or whom he’s running from, but he won’t remember when he wakes. The familiar walls of the Supremacy bend and break behind him, before him the floor shakes and threatens to rip apart at any given moment.  _ We’ve been hit,  _ someone is yelling, and Hux knows they’re waiting for his orders, but he can only run. Something is weighing down on his windpipes. They hurt, an unforgiving, burning soreness, like Hux has either just screamed his lungs out or someone’s recently strangled him. 

_ It’s okay,  _ a voice in the off says, distant and yet ringing in Hux’s ears.  _ Hux,  _ it says,  _ it’s okay. _

Hux jolts awake. While the dream fades, the burning soreness lingers. 

“What…”, Hux mumbles, his still drowsy mind refusing to let go of the fear he felt only seconds ago. 

“It’s okay”, Ren repeats from behind Hux. 

The tent is still dark and shivering in the harsh wind. Hux must have struggled a lot - he’s drenched in sweat, facing away from Ren and he’s kicked off his sleeping bag, leaving his exposed feet cold and numb. Gasping for air, Hux wills himself to shrug off the last bits of panic. 

“Did Snoke--”, Ren inquires silently, but Hux replies with an equally quiet  _ no  _ and a dazed shake of his head before Ren can finish the question. 

Just a good, old, regular nightmare. The ache in his throat and the stinging in his eyes make Hux want to bury his face in embarrassment. 

Hux knows what Ren’s Force-grasp feels like, he’s familiar with the feeling of being dragged and pushed around without being touched, but when Ren does it after a few moments of silence it rips a clipped gasp out of Hux anyway.    

Hux’s first instinct is to protest - it’s the habit of trying everything to hide the shameful state of vulnerability he’s in. 

_ Old habits die hard, _ he thinks,  _ but the time might have come to kill this one for good.  _

He lets Ren pull him close until his entire backside is lined up perfectly against him, he lets Ren hesitantly press his nose against his neck. He lets Ren put his own sleeping bag over the two of them and he lets Ren press a warm, heavy hand to his freezing chest underneath it.

The moment gives Hux a déjà vu that doesn’t make him uneasy, as a déjà vu would otherwise - it gives him a weird sense of safety, the way locked doors or security shields usually do.  

The vibration of Ren’s sleepy voice against his skin and the surprise of hearing him talk makes Hux’s hair stand on end.    

“I was inwardly torn, the night I first touched you”, he says, his thumb drawing invisible patterns on Hux’s heaving chest, “I thought I was dreaming - the way you sighed around every word in your sleep made me doubt it was  _ my name _ you were saying.  _ Ren  _ is not supposed to sound so soft, it’s not supposed to be spoken with so much longing, but there you were, saying it with such an intense  _ need _ that I assumed it wasn’t real. I knew I had to ignore it and resist - but it was almost physically painful, laying there and listening to your voice, realizing no one’s ever wanted me like that.”

The words work on Hux like a spell. He relaxes as Ren continues to hold him and Hux suddenly feels like he’s part of a ritual, one that frees his entire body of dreadful tension and floods him with the sort of blissful warmth that some people, Hux imagines, would kill for. This must be the kind of warmth some people take all sorts of questionable pills for, just to get a taste of it, the kind people get addicted to, and Ren is giving it to Hux without asking for anything in return. 

It’s overwhelming, and Hux can’t say he’s ever experienced anything like it.

“Oh, I don’t believe that for one second”, Hux replies softly, placing his free hand on top of Ren’s without thinking, “The people at your Jedi school would’ve had to be  _ blind  _ to not see the appeal, and I doubt they were. I think it’s likelier that  _ you  _ were the blind one, ignorant of all their admiring stares and completely caught up with pitying yourself.” 

Ren spreads his fingers and Hux’s own carefully slip into the gaps between them.

“Believe me, I was aware of their stares and it wasn’t like that”, Ren mumbles sourly against Hux’s neck. 

“Maybe that was a misinterpretation on your part.”

There’s a short, treacherous silence, and Hux knows Ren is trying to remember what their looks felt like, what they could have meant thinking about them in retrospect. 

“I wasn’t completely clueless, okay?”, Ren snaps half-heartedly, probably aware of how long it took him to reply.

Hux tries to keep himself from grinning and closes his eyes again. 

“Okay.”

The quiet after that almost soothes Hux back to sleep, but Ren unknowingly interferes with that plan and rips Hux back out of his doze a few minutes later.

“I forgot to meditate. To find the rest of the way.”

Hux frowns and blinks his tired eyes back open.

“We can already see the temple from here, why would you need to meditate over it?”

“So I can look for the safest route. I should do it now-”

“No”, Hux says too quickly.

One half of Hux doesn’t want Ren to meditate ever again, knowing now how vulnerable it makes him to an assault from Snoke, the other half screams in protest at the idea of Ren’s hand leaving Hux’s chest. 

“Snoke has retreated, Hux. And I’ve banished him once so I-”

“I told you to stop listening in on my thoughts.”

“We’re not in danger at the moment.”

“Yes we are”, Hux says disbelievingly, “We’ve been in danger this whole time and until Snoke is dead, we will continue to be!” 

“I understand, all right? I do. But giving in to fear now will get us nowhere, it’d just play into Snoke’s hands. There are only two things we can do now, showing him we couldn’t care less about his mind games and finishing this awful mission.”

Hux wonders when Ren had chosen to become the more reasonable of the two and why Ren being right is still so hard for Hux to bear. 

“Sometimes, I would--”, Ren continues, stopping as though he isn’t entirely convinced he wants to keep talking, “Sometimes I would check everybody’s thoughts on the bridge back on the Finalizer, in situations of nerve-wracking stress. An attack, or a system failure. I enjoyed listening to their anxious thoughts, some of your underlings overthought everything so excessively that I was surprised it didn’t end in a breakdown. Each mind would buzz with dread, nervousness or the fear to fail - except for yours. To myself I pretended to mock your droid-like indifference,  _ power comes from emotion  _ and  _ being free of emotion makes you weak. _ But you weren’t being indifferent, you were keeping a cool head, and there’s power in that. You weren’t  _ free of emotion  _ either, you - you simply managed to keep all the anger and fear simmering underneath a facade of mechanical control when the situation demanded it. Emotions never distracted you, not even the fear of loss.”

Ren’s praise sends a strange sensation through Hux’s entire body that’s comparable to oil refloating a corroded gearwheel, or like bacta healing an incised wound.     

“That’s because none of them meant anything to me”, Hux replies after a short while, truly realizing this for the first time as he voices it. 

“None of them has been in my head. None of them has kissed me.”

Hux thinks he can feel Ren’s heartbeat thrumming against his shoulderblade. He stays quiet, seems to hold his breath for a few seconds. 

Hux hadn’t meant to make it sound so absurdly meaningful, he just needed Ren to see the difference. Ren needed to understand why Hux’s stupid fear makes  _ sense.  _ But now Hux is stuck with Ren trying to hide his shock and with himself trying to come up with the right words to mitigate his statement, hoping Ren won’t use this to make fun of him. 

_ Him making fun of you is not your main concern,  _ Hux’s mind offers in its usual know-it-all manner,  _ you’re just scared he’ll have second thoughts. _

Just when Hux is about to hastily explain himself and remove his hand from on top of Ren’s, Ren silently clears his throat and puts Hux’s fugitive hand back in its place.

“I sure hope none of them has”, Ren mutters with a voice so low and hushed Hux almost doubts he said anything at all. 

The relief that surges through Hux right then reminds him of the way he felt taking a bath in the river after Snoke had given him a painful taste of his power - it’s all-consuming to the point of making Hux tremble, and he reprimands himself to stop behaving like a sentimental idiot. 

Smiling incredulously into the dark, Hux realizes that all of this feels far away all of a sudden. It might just be this exact moment, Hux thinks, things might look different again tomorrow - but even his animosity with Ren seems like a childhood memory now that there are these new, somehow immensely weighty impressions, like these recent events are insanely important in a way Hux hasn’t fully grasped yet. His irritation with Ren is still there, certainly, but its endurance has receded. It’s shrinked and grown weak, not even lasting through something as trivial as a smile. 

Ren will have to keep proving that his decision is final before Hux can be at peace with it completely, perhaps over and over, perhaps so often that he gets tired of it. Hux tenses up again, his easy smile diminishing. 

On the one hand, Ren can be proud to have found an ally in someone as dedicated and influential as Hux, he should appreciate the ways in which Hux’s wits and control over the Order might help him defeat the being that manipulated him and ultimately restore order in the galaxy. 

On the other hand, Hux already dreads the moment Ren might go searching for someone even more powerful. Someone who’s more like Ren himself. Someone like the scavenger girl. 

Hux doubts that Ren would be holding onto him now if that girl had decided to let him train her, as Snoke had told Ren in his memory. As Hux understood it, Ren offered to teach her when Starkiller Base collapsed - presumably with the Force, the way Snoke had taught Ren - she refused and subsequently bested him in a duel. Hux had spotted her in the forest when he’d been ordered to retrieve Ren. He’d caught a glimpse of her wildness, her rage, the feral glow the previous fight had left in her eyes making way for worry as she screamed the name they’d given the traitor.  _ Finn.  _

The lack of time and the huge gash in the slowly disrupting planet’s surface had kept Hux from going after her then, but now he wonders what might have happened had he caught her and taken her with them. Would Ren have let Snoke kill her? 

Feeling like he knows the answer, Hux shifts a little in Ren’s arms. He’s being absolutely pathetic, imbecile - threatened by an  _ idea, _ by someone who’s not even here. Hux can only hope Ren is not spying on his thoughts again.

It has to be enough for now, regardless of what could or would have been if things had developed differently. Hux has never been one to indulge in reminiscences or regret, so he shouldn’t start now. 

Why fear a potential loss when Hux can focus on what’s  _ his, _ right here, at this moment? If Hux peered past all the future uncertainties he’d see what happened: Ren made a grave, life-changing decision to team up with Hux. He’s stroking Hux’s chest with a hand that has never traced anyone else’s. 

But seeing past future uncertainties is hard when they’re obscuring everything else like a thick wall of fog. 

“Don’t meditate before I wake”, Hux murmurs, unintentionally making it sound like an order despite his voice being barely more than a whisper.

“...Please”, Hux amends accordingly.

Hux assumes Ren’s defiant silence is a precursor for his reluctance, a careless dismissal or an empty promise, but in the end it just leads him to a single word. 

“Alright.”

It makes Hux close his eyes again. He believes Ren.

The next wave of fatigue takes its time, but when it finally rolls over Hux it grants him seven full hours of uninterrupted sleep. 


	18. Chapter 18

Hux wakes to find that he can’t breathe.

The process of figuring out why is slow - Hux’s sleep had been heavy, truly relaxing for the first time on this planet - but when he realizes that his face feels like someone is pressing a fatally rigid pillow to it he comes to his senses startlingly fast.

Taking a breath is tedious, the little air he manages to inhale is too hot and thick. Hux is reminded of the times he hid under his blankets as a boy and accidentally fell asleep like that, waking up to stale air and the feeling of gradual suffocation.

Now he rips open his still unfocused eyes, turns his head - and the feeling is gone.

 _Relax,_ he thinks grimly as cold, fresh air fills his needy lungs, but as soon as the fleeting relief has passed and he completes the picture Hux’s chest constricts again, nearly causing him to cough.

Apparently Hux has turned around in Ren’s arms overnight, leaving his forehead pressed to Ren’s neck, his nose touching Ren’s collarbone. And Ren, who has not removed his arm from on top of Hux out of either unwillingness or unawareness, must have caused Hux’s shortness of breath. Ren is evidently still asleep and is resting his chin on Hux’s head like he doesn’t mind the proximity at all.

Unsure of how to proceed, Hux adjusts his legs a little, which only brings to his attention that one of them is trapped between Ren’s. They are quite literally entangled, and for a few seconds Hux doesn’t know what to do with the panic that’s bubbling up within him.

 _This is not so bad,_ his inner voice offers, _go back to sleep._ But Hux is too awake now, hyper aware of many things all of a sudden. Every inch of Ren that Hux is in contact with burns, the air Hux breathes is stifling, like Ren is Hux’s childhood blanket that could take his breath away permanently any second now.

The sleeping Ren puts up little resistance when Hux rolls over in one swift motion. Hux instantly starts to shiver all over as the warmth of Ren and the sleeping bag are replaced with the crisp morning air in the tent.

Even though Hux is distinctly aware that nothing inherently worrisome has happened, relief rolls over him in soft waves after having escaped this situation - right until regret explodes in his chest like a popping balloon, as though the sharp panic was a needle that coincidentally set free another, even more awful sentiment.

Hux has never slept so close to someone. He’s never been a heavy sleeper in the first place and has never exactly prioritized rest, especially not with all the work he’d been required to do daily. Deciding between getting some sleep and finishing a few reports had always been easy. When Hux _did_ sleep, the tiniest sound would alert him. Sleeping in the presence of someone else had always been a circumstance he’d gladly avoided imagining, one which he’d fortunately never been forced to consider even in his years back at the academy. _My future successor will not lower himself to share his quarters with another dozen men._

Hux definitely thought it would take more time getting used to. Admittedly, he might have to work on the part where he hastily flees the bed right after waking up, but Hux is surprised he even stayed pressed flat against Ren this whole time without hurrying back to reclaim his personal space at some point. Perhaps Hux had just been very, very tired, too tired to even follow his most basic instincts. But now that his shock has ebbed away completely he notices that he feels fully functional again, like he’s been connected to a charger while he slept. Sleep has never done that for Hux before - maybe his body has won a battle against his mind here, selfishly indulging in something because it felt recovering, ignoring his mind’s disapproval.

And there’s another first time experience Hux doesn’t immediately identify as such - as he leaves his frantic thoughts behind and mentally returns to the here and now, he finds that his absent minded stare is directed at Ren’s sleeping form. Not once before has Hux woken to see Ren still soundly asleep right next to him.

For one ridiculous fraction of a second Hux’s stomach drops as the thought crosses his mind that something might have happened to Ren, but he dismisses it when he notices the even rise and fall of Ren’s chest.

Peering at Ren’s slightly parted lips and watching his eyes chasing images of a dream world behind closed lids is so mesmerizing that Hux gets lost in it for a while, knowing that he might never get another chance to study Ren so intently without the risk of getting caught.

It’s satisfying and makes Hux’s heart leap in a way he didn’t know it could, but only until it starts feeling elusively wrong and an indefinable sort of guilt causes Hux to shudder. He wouldn’t want Ren to watch him while he sleeps.

Hux quickly resorts to gathering a few things from his bag and swapping his old clothes for a new set. When he’s done he crawls towards the entrance, unbothered by the fact that the top of his uniform and the winter jacket don’t match the trousers.

Expecting to be met by a blindingly white carpet of snow covering the ground, Hux already imagines his boots sinking into it with a crunching sound and is mentally already letting his gaze roam over a beautiful ensemble of snow-clad mountain tops in the distance.

The opening zipper however reveals an entirely different sight - there’s absolutely nothing left of the snow that had fallen last night. There are dark, wet spots on the ground in some places, but otherwise every trace of ice has been eliminated by the unyielding sun. Hux has no doubt that the temperatures will rise to an uncomfortable degree later today, judging by how the air outside is already warmer than it was inside the tent.

This rapid change of weather has Hux worrying about how long Ren and he have actually slept. Hux hopes it’s just another display of this planet’s extreme climate because the thought of having wasted so much time resting makes him very uneasy.

Hux steps outside, legs somewhat shaky, and walks over to the edge of the ledge. The toothbrush in his hand clanks against the metallic mantle of his water bottle as he approaches the abyss. A wind gust gently blows a few strands of his hair into his face. Everything about this moment, be it the soft smell of moisture or the screeching birds riding the winds above, reminds Hux of Arkanis in springtime - except for the view, which must be at least twice as impressive.  

When Hux reaches his destination - a spot next to a boulder right at the rim - he sits down carefully and folds his legs, making sure to place all of his items a safe distance behind him.

Everything around Hux is perfectly peaceful: The river below seems quiet today, the trees are swaying gently, the sun is shining brighter than ever. Hux has never hated nature more than he does at this moment.

This day is too beautiful to be spent fearing one’s life, yet Hux of course has no other choice. His head is full of dark clouds that the sun or the fresh air or the damn birds can do nothing about and his body is jittery and fragile despite the initial feeling of recovery after having had a good night’s rest. Hux feels that he’s slowly but steadily reaching the end of his tether, and knowing that most of his strength will be needed for what lies ahead makes him succumb to hopelessness all the more.

The thought draws Hux’s gaze to the left, to the foot of the mountain that houses the temple. Hux doesn’t need to concentrate in order to find the entrance again, his eyes practically flick to it on their own. It’s so tiny, mysterious in a way; the gate to an intriguing, ancient place that screams to be discovered, and under different circumstances Hux might have found the idea of exploring it exciting. Ren could have cluttered Hux with endless explanations about the importance of that temple and the Force, while Hux could have feigned a deep interest in it just to hear Ren talk animatedly with that spark in his eyes.

But this is no pleasure trip and the temple is not a tourist attraction - the closer the temple gets, the more Hux is convinced that it’s not a chance to survive he and Ren are approaching, but a death trap.  

Hux winces as a wind gust hits his face with unexpected velocity and howls in his ears. The whistling it causes almost sounds like a whisper and Hux reflexively shudders.

He’s about to reach behind him to grab his water bottle when he hears the sound again. It wouldn’t have caught his attention had it actually still been windy - but the air is completely still when the hissing becomes distinguishable once more. Soft at first, then growing louder.

Hux’s hands clumsily rush to cover his ears, just to be sure, but the sound doesn’t disappear, isn’t even drowned out by Hux’s harsh breathing and his racing heart.

The first explanation Hux comes up with is that his body is signalling him he’s about to have a circulatory collapse, for whatever reason. It wouldn’t be his first one; He used to forget his meals a lot back when each and every little inconvenience still caused him a stress induced headache, before he reverted to dealing with his problems in healthier ways than denying himself sleep and consuming excessive amounts of either caf or tea. Sometimes he’d just start to tremble, realize he hadn’t eaten in 38 hours and blackout where he sat or stood. No one had ever been there to witness one of those moments, and Hux is glad about it.

This piping, wailing whisper however is not Hux’s own doing. As it grows clearer Hux notes that it doesn’t sound arbitrary like the wind, but deliberate. Like someone is telling a coherent story, but something has been done to their voice. It seems to have been altered by a mask like the one Ren used to wear, but the voice modulator has been replaced by a cheap, broken copy of the original and is now distorting the voice beyond all recognition.   

The sounds aren’t words - Hux becomes more sure of it with every passing second. Instead of the fear he probably should be feeling Hux is grasped by an intense, tingly curiosity that forces him to listen even more intently. He’s distinctly aware that it might be wise to call for help, but the curiosity overrides that notion.

Hux believes he’s starting to _feel_ the whispers resonating within his body, like a strange kind of energy they run through him, make him feel like a live wire. Recognition comes to him like an electric shock - these sounds are an invitation--

Hux is being called.

There’s no need for words or language to understand it. The knowledge seems to be buried somewhere deep inside of Hux, making him unable to use it, but now that he has been contacted it’s reawakened and helps him make sense of what’s happening to him.  

There can be no words at all because it’s not a person reaching out for Hux - it’s the Ubiquitum.

Wishing he knew how to respond, Hux waits in anticipation for what else the artifact might tell him. But he’s waiting in vain. All it cares about is this one request, the one that’s slowly becoming a demand: It needs Hux to pick it up. Hux thinks back to the way it rattled like a boiling kettle in Snoke’s torture vision, how Hux had been physically drawn to it. He feels this pull now, too, and against his better judgment also the need to use it again. He remembers the pain. The need grows weaker.

It keeps on whispering for a while longer, and when it’s sure Hux has understood completely, it falls silent abruptly.

Hux gives a jump as he’s robbed of both sound and energy at once and removes his hands from his ears. The letters he’s repeated to himself so often shoot through his head, then it’s silent.

Even the wind and the birds seem to have fled. Eyes flitting from one blurry tree in the distance to another, Hux calmly picks up his water bottle and drinks, lost in thought.

It’s the calm before the storm - Hux’s mind blanks for a moment before every realization he’s refused to acknowledge until now crashes down on him like a downpour.

Ren has turned against Snoke. They have _both_ turned against Snoke. They’re not retrieving the Ubiquitum for Snoke any longer - if Snoke gets his hands on this artifact Hux doubts there’s much they can do to stop him. Snoke knows how to use it, they don’t. Can’t. Ren, if he’s telling the truth, does not even know about its _existence,_ much less that it’s what they’ve been sent here for.

Snoke himself might not come here to get it, but he might have sent someone else who can.

Someone who might be on their way already while he and Ren are _taking a break._

Hux is on the verge of getting up and waking Ren, the muscles in his legs are already straining, but then he realizes he has no idea what to say as soon as he reaches the tent without giving away that he knows about the Ubiquitum. If he tells Ren they must hurry, Ren will ask why. If Hux replies that it’s because there’s an extremely powerful item they have to retrieve before Snoke does, Ren will ask why Hux didn’t tell him sooner. He’ll get furious, he’ll ask questions about it, he’ll make Hux relive the terrible memories of using that thing.

And apart from that - Hux laughs dryly as he finishes the thought - he somehow knows that the Ubiquitum doesn’t want him to reveal anything it’s shown him. It’s ridiculous and frightening at the same time. Hux feels the same reluctance to go against this vague knowledge that he used to feel about disobeying his father’s orders. Certain things just can’t be questioned, and this feels like one of them.

So Hux remains where he sits, sighs and takes off the jacket that’s beginning to feel stifling in the growing heat of the sun.

Despite having lost his appetite, Hux quickly forces down a few bites of his instant breakfast and pointedly ignores the weak cramps it causes him afterwards.

Just when he’s finished brushing his teeth he hears a familiar rustling sound behind him, followed by the sound of an opening zipper. The thought of Ren joining him makes Hux realize that he’s glad not to be on his own any longer, that he is in need of company after all.

“Are you alright?”, Ren skips the greeting, voice a bit throaty. Hux is sure he wasn’t supposed to note the trace of concern accompanying the question, so he ignores it.

“Yes”, Hux replies as lightly as he can, turning around just in time to see relief crossing Ren’s face.

Ren crawls out of the tent and Hux has to suppress a snort at the way the entrance is dwarfed by the breadth of Ren’s shoulders. Ren’s arms are loaded with several items, most likely the same ones Hux has surrounded himself with, and he’s changed into a different shirt and a new pair of trousers.

Sitting down next to Hux inelegantly, Ren unknowingly imitates Hux’s morning routine and starts to drink from his bottle before opening a packet of brownish powder and pouring it into a small tin he’s placed on his right thigh. He adds some water, stirs it with his finger a few times. Hux’s eyes follow each movement like he’s in a trance, which is why he startles a little when Ren starts talking.

“I had a dream last night. I’m almost completely sure it was a vision - I saw the island again. The one Luke Skywalker has been hiding on. And Rey”, Ren says, and as he notices Hux’s questioning glance he adds “...the scavenger girl.”

The addition comes too late, though - a venomous bitterness is already twisting in Hux’s gut like a knife at hearing Ren use her first name so naturally, in such a familiar way.

“So?”, Hux replies, cringing at how much he’s sounding like a sulky child, “We know she’s found him. It was only a matter of time.”

“Yes. But things don’t seem to be going the way she thought. She was expecting him to train her and join the Resistance, she wanted the long-lost legend to return as a hero in their fight against the First Order. She thought he was the shiny beacon of hope they’d all been waiting for, and she thought _she_ could be the one to bring him back. But Skywalker has changed.”

“He’s a crazy old man. A hermit. _I_ could have told her as much.”

“He’s still very powerful. But he’s grown to despise the way people see him, the way Rey sees him, and he’s afraid of failure. Of failing her the way he failed me.”

“And now she’s given up on him?”

“No. Not quite. It can’t be much longer, though. I’ve felt it very clearly - she’s growing impatient and her disappointment is close to unbearable. She’s looking for her place in this world, she’s trying to figure out where she belongs, she - she thought that place was with Skywalker, but now she’s slowly realizing that she might have been mistaken, do you see what this could mean, Hux?”

Ren’s excitement is suddenly tangible, almost infectious, but not quite. Hux remains blank-faced, seeing exactly what this could mean.

“She slashed open your face, Ren. She hates you.”

 _You have compassion for her_ tumbles around in Hux’s head in Snoke’s voice. 

“I _can_ turn her. I feel that it can work, should I get the chance to reach out to her after this. I could show her that her place is with _us._ It will take time, a lot of persuasion, but it would be worth it. She would make an incredible ally, I know it, you know it. I’ve seen her mind, she’s not shying away from the dark side, she might embrace it with the right reasoning. She’s vulnerable now, helpless, and it’s getting worse every day.”

Ren pauses. This idea obviously thrills him and his conviction is real, and Hux shortly entertains the thought of simply agreeing. Converting her would be a logical approach and Ren would be the most obvious candidate to try it.

But then Ren says something that erases every scrap of logic Hux was able to make use of.

“Besides, you used to hate me, too.”

The irrational interpretations Hux’s mind provides then are surely not what Ren intended to trigger, nevertheless they come to life and replace the knife in Hux’s gut with a spinning laser ax.

Yes, Hux used to hate Ren, right until he fell prey to his charms like the idiot he is. It’s worked on Hux, so surely it’ll work on the scavenger as well. That’s the kind of effort you put into persuasion when it comes to gaining allies. Until this is over, Hux will do, but after that the girl will be Ren’s next project.

And as soon as he’s successfully turned her, Hux will be second in line.

So many things should bother Hux about that - it would equal, first and foremost, admitting defeat. It would mean losing against a nobody from Jakku. It would mean losing the upper hand, losing control, losing power if a third party had a say in ruling the First Order. If Ren one day realized he preferred working with the girl, Hux would be plagued by feelings of inadequacy.

But all of these reasons seem secondary compared to that one thought that’s hammering within Hux’s head, prominent like a searing headache -

Hux will be alone again.

Being alone has never bothered him in the past, but now that he knows what it’s like to _have_ someone he’s sure that losing that again would drive him mad.

“Do what you have to”, Hux finally says coolly, gathers his things and gets up.

Ren looks bewildered at this change of atmosphere.

“Don’t do that”, he says, swallowing the chunk of bread he was chewing on, “What is it?”

“I don’t see why you would let me in on this plan at all. You seem to have put a lot of thought into it and you’re obviously unwilling to change your mind. Let’s just hope your tactics work on her as well as they did on me.”

“My - what? Hux, are you--”

But Hux doesn’t hear Ren finish - he’s already walking back to the tent in big, dynamic strides.

He regrets causing the scene right after he’s turned away from the puzzled looking Ren, who undoubtedly knows what Hux’s problem is even if he pretends not to. But taking it back now seems impossible. Hux knows what Ren must be thinking: _Hux is overreacting, Hux’s lack of confidence is annoying. Hux is possessive and doesn’t like to share._

Ren would be right to think so. Power is not a thing that can be shared from Hux’s point of view, and as it appears, neither is Ren.

 

***

 

By the time they reach the hidden cave they have both stripped down to their undershirts.

It’s gotten so hot that Hux’s rucksack felt like it’s been glued to his sweat-soaked back for the entirety of their trip.

Their way had lead them continuously downhill and it had still been extremely draining. Trying not to slip on the dusty surface of the mountain in the glistening heat of the sun had proven to be no less exhausting than the climbing they had to do in order to get up there.

The sound of masses of water being pushed by a powerful stream and bursting as they collide with massive rocks had grown gradually louder, the intensity of the sun on the other hand had become weaker as the hours had passed. The air is still heated up, but Hux’s uneasiness about the possibility of a sunburn is thankfully ebbing away.

Now, Hux finds himself standing at the easily overlooked entrance of a cave, getting goosebumps in its refreshingly cold shadows. He squints to see where the passage leads but finds that pitch black darkness is the only thing he can discern.

Ren had seen this cave while meditating - he’d suggested they spend the night there since it was not inhabited and they’d be safe from another potential blizzard. He’d said something about a connection to the Force but Hux has to admit that he hadn’t listened very carefully. He’d been too caught up with wondering why Ren had been pretending Hux’s embarrassing outburst had never happened. Ren hadn’t asked Hux about it and he hadn’t given Hux the silent treatment either - he’d left Hux alone for a while, had sat down to meditate, and after he’d been done he had approached Hux with a smug, tentative smile on his face, reporting his success. _And not a trace of Snoke,_ Ren had said, eyes practically gleaming with genuine joy, and it had made Hux mirror Ren’s facial expression against his will.  

The smell of moisture and salt, _minerals,_ emanates from within the cave, and Hux asks himself how he could possibly recognize the smell of something that’s technically scentless.

“Shall we go inside?”, Hux asks, watching Ren come to a halt next to him.

Hux thinks he catches a glimpse of something that could be skepticism on Ren’s face, but it vanishes when Ren seems to feel Hux watching him.

“Yes.”

As Hux is reaching behind him to unfasten the electric lantern that’s dangling from his bag, Ren stops him.

“I don’t think we’ll need those.”

“But the visibility range is already-”

“Trust me.”

It takes only a few moments for Hux to do just that.

As it turns out, the initial darkness was due to the narrow tunnel taking a sharp turn right at the beginning, not allowing anyone to see farther than a few steps. Like everything else about this cave, it seems to serve the purpose of keeping its insides hidden from prying eyes, as though the entrance is the first part of a more complex defense mechanism.

Nothing more deterring awaits them after the few seconds of poor eyesight, though - Hux follows Ren into the darkness, eyes wide open in a desperate attempt to see anything but black, hands stretched out in fear of running into the next wall. This worry however dissolves after less than a minute of following the path.

A billow of warm, humid air engulfs them both as they advance. After two, maybe three turns, Hux can make out the back of Ren’s head again. The glow starts out softly, lighting up Ren’s outlines and a few strands of his hair, then Ren is practically gleaming, shrouded in a vibrant, venomous shade of green.

Hux can hardly believe his eyes at first. The green light looks unnatural, acrid, and Hux has to think of radioactivity and neon tubes, secret laboratories.

But the atmosphere isn’t as sinister as the sickly green glow might suggest - Hux believes he’s welcome here. Condensed water is falling down from above Hux in thick droplets, splashing each time they hit the stony ground or Hux’s exposed shoulders.

In front of Hux, Ren stops and turns to his left. As Hux approaches he can see Ren examine his surroundings, the white of his imploring eyes turned sparklingly green. The cave is outright bright now, illuminated like there’s a green sun shining somewhere within it.

Hux barely manages to keep himself from gasping as he follows Ren’s lead and takes in the cave.

The water of the massive lake that expands before them is so green that it could just as well be mixed with liquefied emeralds. It fills almost the entire place, leaves close to no room except for the bank Ren and Hux are standing on. Its surface is not flat and unmoving like it’s supposed to be - Hux assumes it could either mean there are creatures here calling this lake their home, or there are underwater springs causing circulation from somewhere in its depths.  

The lake itself however wouldn’t have been all too impressive, despite its size - it’s the masses of crystals covering the walls that create an incredible overall picture, leaving Hux in awe.

There are only a few spots on the walls at the other end of the lake that are free of these crystals, which are catching and distributing the violently green light with their rough shapes. They differ in size and while some of them seem to grow on their own, others grow in impressive groups. Hux can spot a few underwater as well, some of which are so tall that they cut through the surface, sharp and shiny.

“Are those what I think they are?”, Hux asks absent-mindedly as he lets his gaze roam until it lands on Ren.

Reflections of green light are dancing across his face, making it look less sick and more like a canvas for a bizarre yet absorbing three dimensional painting.

It’s almost distracting Hux from the shock in Ren’s eyes.

“Yes. Kyber crystals.”

Of course, Hux knows a thing or two about these minerals as they’ve become an inherent part of many First Order inventions. However while he knows about their role in arms production he’s more or less clueless about their spiritual worth.

“You seem surprised. I thought you expected something like this?”

“I did, but not to this extent. And-”

“Aren’t they supposed to be colorless?”

“Yes, they are. And with them being so rare I should have known about this location. I have to take a closer look at them.”

Something about Ren’s tone is discomforting - Ren is supposed to be the expert here, but nothing about his behavior suggests he understands what’s going on.

Ren throws his bag to the ground and Hux sighs.

“Fine. I’ll pitch the tent.”

Hux is not interested in waking up to find all their belongings, including themselves, soaked and clammy. He’s also gotten so used to the tent that sleeping without it would make him uncomfortable, but that’s secondary.

While Hux busies himself with unpacking a few of his items, he can see Ren approach the water and squat down from the corner of his eye.

He turns around just in time to catch Ren extending a hand and immerse it in the green liquid.

“Ren, wait…!”, Hux manages to call out in a sudden rush of panic, but Ren just keeps stirring the water with his hand, causing ripples. The look he gives Hux is calm, reassuring.

“It’s warm.”

Hux wants to get angry, yet he can’t. Ren is not that rash - he’s just as reluctant to put himself in danger as Hux is, and if he’d felt there was anything odd about the water he wouldn’t have stuck his hand into it.

Calm. _Down._

As Ren walks over to examine one of the crystals shooting out of the ground, Hux continues his own work. The slight scare made him aware that he’s hungry, too hungry to ignore it and save the food for later. When the tent has erected, Hux crawls into it to arrange his things inside.

The first time Hux’s stomach does a flip is when he crawls back out and sees the clothes Ren had been wearing moments ago lying in a careless, crumpled pile on the ground a few feet away at the lakefront. He hears the water dabbling softly and knows that Ren must be swimming in it.

 _Inconvenient,_ is Hux’s first thought, _now I have to stay here and wait._

 _No,_ thinks the more angry and confident part of him, _you’ve done things with him that make this cowardice inexcusable. You can eat outside in complete indifference._

Hux can’t rid himself of the discomfort entirely, but he still decides to spread out one of his jackets in front of the tent and have his supper there, regardless of whether he’ll see Ren undressed or not.

He even manages to ignore Ren altogether for a while - there are many things he could focus on instead after all, like preparing his meal, scratching some dirt off his boots, watching green spots of light flit across the dark ground, or the uncomfortably burning tension building up somewhere within him.

When he feels it growing after he’s concentrated on it he quickly searches for another possible distraction and finds it in the sparkling walls, the invitingly clear water -

The same water that barely reaches up to Ren’s broad waist, doing little to hide the rest of his body. Ren’s bare back at the opposite end of the lake, a pale spot contrasting the otherwise moss green surroundings. That’s when Hux’s stomach does a second flip.

Hux allows himself to stare for a while. It’s an optimal distance to be watching someone without them noticing, just far enough to enable secrecy, just close enough to detect the countless moles scattered across that someone’s shoulder blades.

Then he averts his gaze and tries not to let it wander there again.

The disquieting feeling Hux is having has absolutely _nothing_ to do with admiration, or envy, or even his own inadequacy - it’s just the sourness over having given in to this natural, basic curiosity. That’s it.

But soon Hux’s eyes are drawn to the muscles moving beneath the milky white skin of Ren’s upper back again, and again, and after another four nervous times they stray down his spine and it becomes harder and harder for Hux to deny that his body is reacting to what he sees.

For a short moment, Hux is asking himself what’s keeping him from getting up, getting rid of his stiflingly tight clothes, walking up to Ren and seeing what he’ll do. It’s only a few steps to the shore from where Hux sits and suffers - if he hurried, he wouldn’t be exposed for too long.

Then the back Hux is staring at is turning, brown eyes pierce his own, and Hux knows what’s holding him back.

“You don’t have to, you know. Sit and suffer”, Ren says with so much confidence that Hux is sure he must be faking it.

The blood that’s been coiling in Hux’s gut now shoots to his head.

“I told you-”

 _\-- to stay out of my thoughts,_ Hux completes mentally, because physically he can’t bring himself to keep talking.

Only then does he really understand the invitation. Hux’s mind is already envisioning himself wading through the water towards Ren, in his mind Ren is already pulling him close, but in reality it’s not that easy.

Hux is ready to say no. He really is. His barely touched food lies lifelessly before him - it would be easy to say he’d rather finish it first and bathe later.

Though he knows what’s actually at the bottom of his conflict, and it has absolutely nothing to do with his unsavory food.

“I can turn around if you like”, Ren suddenly suggests, and Hux has no trouble hearing Ren’s teasing smile as he speaks.

It abruptly changes Hux’s anxious reluctance into offended embarrassment, which then turns into avid competitiveness.

Hux gets to his feet. His shoes give a dull thump as they tumble across the ground after he’s kicked them off.

Being ragingly insecure and uncomfortable is one thing, but Ren being _aware_ of it is another. If Ren is unbothered by this, Hux will have even less trouble with it.

The white undershirt - a piece of clothing Hux couldn’t have put off without folding it neatly only a few days ago - flies to the ground and turns into a sad, wrinkly heap. The clinking of his belt buckle resounds within the cave and Hux steps out of his trousers determinedly after they’ve fallen to the ground, just like the shirt. He takes off the first sock, then the second, and now there’s only one last, cruelly significant piece of fabric left.

Usually Hux can put on his confidence like a uniform, but this - this is different. He’s not on the bridge of some ship where everyone obsequiously follows his orders, where he knows that no one would dare make fun of him, at least not to his face. It feels like the confidence-switch he used to be able to actuate whenever he pleased has been damaged, disabled by the staggering awareness that Ren would be the first person to see him like this.

Just when Hux thinks he can’t recall how to pull himself together he notices, then truly processes the look on Ren’s face.

It’s a look he’ll never forget even though it’s also one he already knows. _You amaze me._

This look might be one of the few things able to encourage Hux to continue undressing until there’s nothing left to take off, step into the pleasantly warm water and half walk, half swim to where Ren is standing inspecting the crystals.

Secretly, Hux is more than grateful when he finds that Ren has resumed analyzing the crystals halfway through his burdensome journey, allowing Hux to approach him with a little less pressure on his shoulders.

“It’s not the stones that are colored, they’re just absorbing the green light. I can’t find the source of that light, though - it’s almost like it’s ubiquitous, coming from nowhere and going everywhere.”

Hux hides the scare Ren’s choice of words gave him.

“It would have been astounding”, Ren proceeds his explanation, “to imagine that something or someone came here to claim them all, and then leave them here. If they had turned green it would’ve meant that they’ve already bonded with Force-sensitive individuals. It would’ve made them practically useless for us. But that’s not the case.”

“Aren’t they useless for us either way? What are we supposed to do with them now, in our position?”, Hux asks and feels bitterness creeping over him.

“You never know”, Ren replies lightly and turns to eye Hux.

“Ren, just be realistic for one second. What do you think is going to happen tomorrow? What do you think Snoke is going to do as soon as he reaches us? Or are you seriously considering going back, getting rid of Snoke and pretending nothing happened? If we’re not careful he’ll make sure we suffer. You talk like our old lives are waiting right behind that temple, like _any_ of what we remember will be the same again-”

Taken aback a little by his own anger, Hux wonders why he didn’t see this coming. In a matter of seconds he started feeling miserable and now catches himself hoping Ren will disagree with him, make him feel better.

“Listen, I’m not pretending things won’t change. I’m trying to come up with ideas, with ways to free us from him entirely, okay? I’ll need help with that. I’ll need options. I’ll need someone who understands the Force the same way I do because Snoke knows more about it than anyone. I know we’ll survive this, I just _do,_ and when this is over I’ll reach out for Rey and convince her to help me eliminate him.”

Something breaks inside of Hux - he can feel it very clearly, a brisk _crack_ like a bone cleanly snapping in half.

This was inevitable. In a way, Hux had expected it, yet he could have never imagined how painful it was actually going to be. He briefly wonders whether this is how it’s going to feel now every time Ren chooses someone else over Hux, and comes to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be able to last through that for long. A small, inaccessible part of him knows he’s misinterpreting Ren’s words and that he’s making a fuss over nothing.

Yet it stands no chance against the one thought that has returned, the one fear that budded within Hux this morning and has since transformed into a full grown tree, the one that’s now single handedly crushing every other thought trying to end its dictatorship over Hux’s brain -

Hux will be alone again.

“That thought”, Ren suddenly whispers, making Hux’s chest ache even more, “You must believe me when I say I didn’t mean to hear it earlier today, and I didn’t mean to hear it just now. It was so loud and clear that no concentration was necessary on my part to hear it. But this… this despicable thought. There’s something you need to understand.”  

Hux shivers under the intensity of Ren’s gaze, defiantly returns it but fails to really gather himself.

“As long as I’m alive”, Ren declares choppily, his shaky breaths echoing loudly within the otherwise quiet cave, “you’re not alone.”

A fight erupts within Hux, a battle in which Hux’s rationality and pride are trying to beat down tears that have no evident origin. The sadness is too unexpected though, having snuck up on Hux clandestinely, and now he’s paying for his inattentiveness by being ambushed and overwhelmed.

Hux’s eyes start burning, he can feel the tiny veins in them bursting in his effort to suppress what’s about to happen. Frantically he tries to understand where this rush of unbidden emotion came from so he can tackle the cause and block it out, but none of his former thoughts had been particularly sad - a little self-deprecating if anything, but nothing to _cry_ about.

The idea that these might be tears of joy and relief never even crosses Hux’s mind.

Hux mentally orders the tears back. They don’t spill.

The water ripples excitedly when Ren moves closer, too quickly for Hux to object to it - not that he was planning to do that. Next thing Hux knows is he’s being pulled forward, then pushed against the uneven wall. The sharp crystals dig into his back uncomfortably, but not hard enough to break skin. There’s pressure on Hux’s hips, gentle yet assertive, and there are lips pressed to where his jaw meets his neck, soft yet demanding.

“I’ll prove it if you don’t believe me”, Ren breathes, “Over and over, if I have to.”

Each kiss Ren plants to Hux’s neck and collarbone then adds to Hux’s recovery. First the stinging ache in his back recedes, then the lump in his throat shrinks, then his heart proceeds to beat at a much less painful pace. Hux wants, _desires_ with his whole being, and he decides to let himself have it.

Ren’s hands are everywhere, tracing Hux’s torso, his ribs, drawing a ragged sigh from Hux as they rush down to cup the curve of his buttocks and squeeze. Their hips collide when Ren tugs him forward and the raw heat that sears through Hux after that threatens to make him collapse.

It’s nothing like their previous encounters, not even remotely. It’s decidedly better in every way, but if Hux had to explain _how_ it’s better he probably couldn’t put it into words.

While the temperature of the water had been pleasant initially it now feels too hot, makes Hux feel like he’s boiling, feverish, makes his forehead dampen.

Hux is taken by surprise when Ren lifts him up effortlessly. Two sensations seize control of Hux momentarily: The almost stimulating bite that comes with the rough wall behind him scratching his back like claws, and the friction that originates from Hux instinctively wrapping his legs around Ren’s torso. Hux has to stifle a groan.  

After Ren takes them both in hand, neither of them lasts long - the water gives Ren’s movements a strange but satisfying twist. Hux feels Ren’s reluctance to finish, as well as his dawning acceptance that he won’t be able to delay it further. There’s a moment, right before Hux comes so hard he has to tighten his hold on Ren in order to not slump down, where Ren leans forward again to say something that lowers all of Hux’s remaining defenses.

“This can’t be weakness”, he says, voice breathy and heavy with arousal, “not when it makes me feel like conquering the galaxy.”

 _Yes,_ Hux thinks as stars explode behind his closed eyelids, _we were wrong._

Hux’s legs slowly, weakly sink to the ground of the lake again. He lets himself sag against Ren for a while, enjoying the wetness making his skin cling to Ren’s, sticky and warm. Then he stops Ren from taking care of himself by gently pushing his hand away, replacing it with his own.

Something strange happens to Hux after Ren’s soft noises of approval have died down and his hips still - an eerie moment of clarity washes over him.

All of a sudden, Hux is _aware_ \- aware of how futile and irrelevant all of this might turn out to be, of how it might all have been for nothing, of how much time he’s wasted hating Ren. All of this is happening _too late._ It feels like a long forgotten, cruel prophecy that Hux has been ignoring for too long, and now it’s startlingly close to being fulfilled. Like every painful question that’s torturing Hux will be answered tomorrow in that temple and none of the answers he’ll get will be what he’s hoping for.

Suddenly Hux is so terrified and sorrowful that the feeling of post-coital happiness evaporates like smoke in the wind. His mood swings make him think of himself as a cruiser maneuvering through a meteor shower - one second he’s peacefully staying on target and the next he’s hit, damaged beyond repair.

He’s feeling the tears again, lurking right behind his eyes and just waiting for their time to come, more determined to escape this time.

“Do you remember telling me how you didn’t fear me? How you… How there’s no fear in you that could make you abandon me and leave me to myself?”, Ren asks suddenly, not commenting on Hux’s state of upset.

Of course Hux remembers. How could he not? He’s surprised _Ren_ remembers it - after all he’d been in a miserable condition, barely in his right mind when Hux had said it. The words had brought Ren back, then.

“Yes”, Hux replies quietly.

“Do you still mean that?”

Hux doesn’t need to ponder over that, still he waits before he answers. His self-consciousness about his sudden surge of emotion slowly dissipates even though Ren’s focus on him is growing stronger - Hux’s mind distances itself from thoughts about meteor showers and starts verging on memories of his hand pressed to Ren’s cheek.

“I do”, Hux says with more emphasis now, finally allowing his still glazed eyes to look into Ren’s.

It feels like a final agreement, a settled contract, but Hux doesn’t dare call it that.

“I see what you’re worrying about, I don’t have to read your thoughts to see it.”

Ren’s thumbs dig lightly into the soft spots right above Hux’s hipbones and Hux leans into them with his whole body.

“You still think I haven’t made my decision. You think you’re a stopgap. A means to an end in my masterplan.“

Hux’s waist appears tiny with Ren’s hands holding it in place and it should make Hux feel powerless, small. Instead, he feels his confidence growing unexpectedly, sureness returning to his movements as he lets his own hands wander up Ren’s arms until they reach his biceps.  

Yes, that’s what Hux thinks, but he feels like Ren is about to convince him of the contrary.

“But answer me this”, Ren continues, inclining his head towards Hux’s cheek, “You’ve exceeded all of my expectations, no, made me question myself for having had them in the first place. It seems I just can’t get tired of you - you don’t presume to change me in a way that fits your personal beliefs, like everybody else in my life has tried to do. I thought the Force had allowed me to feel everything there is, and yet you have found new ways to move me, helped me access parts of myself I didn’t know existed—“

Ren’s lips remove themselves from Hux’s cheekbone. They retreat so Hux can look at them again.

“— So why would I settle for someone who’s not you?”

Hux doesn’t answer that verbally. He answers it by leaning further into Ren’s touch until the thumbs boring into his pelvis promise to leave bruises, by closing in on Ren until not even the water finds room between them, until their bodies threaten to merge; By letting his lips hover right over Ren’s but not quite capturing them, by breathing Ren’s air, by waiting in tight anticipation. Hux answers the question by making an offer.

And Ren takes it without hesitation.

 

***

 

“Something might go wrong tomorrow.”

The feeling of being utterly spent weighs Hux down against his iso-mat. His hair is still damp, his cheeks are still prickling, but the fire in his lower body has died down entirely. It’s been chased away by dread after he and Ren had lain down, after the cloud in Hux’s mind that was his occupation with Ren’s hands and mouth had gotten a chance to dissipate and make way for thoughts about the coming day.

“You’ve felt it too?”, Ren asks disbelievingly, one cheek pressed against the arm he’s resting his head on.

“I think so.”

“Then you must’ve also sensed that there’s going to be a success.”

“No. It seems only the disappointing and gruesome intuitions reach me.”

“It keeps switching, for me. Right now, I feel at peace. Probably the easiest I’ve ever felt.”

Hux feels the strange sadness from before returning. Apparently, he hasn’t locked it away safely enough.

“You don’t have to say that. Don’t lie.”

“It’s the truth. In a way it feels like lying in an escape pod right now, we’re just waiting to fall asleep until we reach our destination. You know, until we wake up in another time cycle, in another place. Everything else is just rushing past like we’re in hyperspace, but we’re not. We’re just sleeping, dreaming.”

Hux wants to tease Ren for his propensity to dramatize everything, he doesn’t want to tear up at all, and yet he does. His lips curl into a sad excuse of a smile.

“Sounds boring.”

“No it’s not, not at all. Our minds are connected, occasionally you visit my dreams and I visit yours. Physicality is transitory, but our connection is not.”

The wet trails on Hux’s cheeks burn their way into his skin like acid. Hux tries to convince himself that this sureness that has befallen him, these dark forebodings he’s having, are just that - forebodings. Feelings, notions, vague and most likely born out of fear.

“You make it sound like we’re already dead.”

“Then you didn’t listen”, Ren insists, “I was trying to tell you that we might be sharing a connection that will outlive us. I haven’t understood it completely yet, you’re not Force-sensitive after all, but I felt that _this_ was meant to be. This is meant to last.”

Hux’s eyes must be red-rimmed now, but hoping that the green light simmering through the tent’s walls might conceal it Hux looks at Ren anyway.

For a brief moment, Hux realizes what a short amount of time it’s taken them to reach this point. Their attitudes towards each other have changed so rapidly, seemingly through a series of coincidences - but Hux knows better. He remembers thinking about fate, about never having believed in it but being sure that his own is somehow tied to Ren’s, and now he knows that Ren has come to the same conclusion.

But none of Ren’s words, Hux thinks, have ever had the same reliability as his eyes. And what Hux finds in them now is optimism. Optimism and something he’ll learn to recognize as unrestrained fondness.  

“I hope you’re right.”


	19. Chapter 19

_ Tap. _

One thousand eight hundred and thirty two.

Silence. Hux’s eyes start watering when he blinks - he hasn’t closed them in a while. The pins and needles in his arm stir as he finally shifts so it can be supplied with blood again.

_ Tap. _

One thousand eight hundred and thirty three. 

It must’ve been hours ago that Hux started counting the water drops monotonously falling down on their tent in even intervals. They keep hitting the same spot somewhere above Hux’s head, roughly every nine, sometimes ten seconds. 

_ Tap. _

One thousand eight hundred and thirty four.

This is what it must feel like to go insane. Hux feels his unmoving eyes going dry again. He’s glad he can’t see himself - if someone offered him a mirror right now he would first shatter the thing, then the person offering it. 

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep for a single second last night, hasn’t dozed off or even closed his eyes very often for that matter, though he’s far from being exhausted.

He couldn’t bring himself to think about tomorrow -  _ today,  _ he bitterly corrects - either. It should have been the only thing on his mind, but it wasn’t. His mind was mostly put out of action, just functional enough to spiral into a state of escapist indifference.

_ Tap. _

One thousand eight hundred and thirty five.

“Hux?”

A hand settles on Hux’s wrist. It’s time to get going. 

“Yes?”

Momentarily, Ren’s face is hard to bring into focus and it looks like he’s multiplying - then Hux blinks a few times, rubs his eyes and notes a slight improvement. Ren just woke up, but worry lines are already knitting his brow.  

“There’s something I need to tell you before we go. I dreamed about it and I don’t know how I could forget about addressing it - I meant to, really, I just forgot -”

“What, Ren?”

“Snoke ordered me to make sure you’re not harmed, but I never told you why.”

Hux mentally recoils. Of course, he’d asked himself just that, had even followed this track to a certain point, and then he had unfathomably never put any thought into it again. 

“He told you your mission was to spy on me and to kill me should I fail my mission”, Ren carries on, “But that’s of course not what he told _me._ He said _you_ were the key to retrieving his object of desire from the temple and that your involvement in the process was crucial, so ensuring your survival was as much my mission as was retrieving the object. It almost felt like he was trying make me believe I’d be the main figure in this, when really my part wasn’t nearly as important as yours. I couldn’t really believe it at first, and I… I was just, really taken aback -”

“You were jealous.”

Ren’s silence is charged with a certain kind of indignation, one Hux knows too well - not the sort that leaves you seething with blind anger, but the one that comes from feeling called out, caught in the act. 

“No I wasn’t. That’s not the right word, I was - I guess I just didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of playing a bigger part. You would’ve been extremely smug and unbearable about it.”

Hux smiles in feigned surrender.

“Hm. I won’t deny that.”

Aware of having been disarmed, Ren lets his eyes drop and his shoulders slouch, tries to fight the urge to reciprocate Hux’s smile and fails.

None of it is deliberate; with Ren, it rarely ever is when it comes to body language. But Hux sees, reads and interprets it all. In hindsight that was the only possible way for him to try and understand Ren, without the gift of Force-abilities, and now that he thinks about it he was even decently successful with it. Let people like Snoke and Ren have their own method of reading others like books - Hux can flip through their pages in different ways. 

Right now, Ren is mentally fumbling for words and looks impossibly clumsy while doing so. He’s dying to add something and hasn’t figured out how yet. Hux waits, knowing he’s fine with everything that might delay their pending departure. 

“What I wanted to ask”, Ren starts, the worry lines on his face deepening, “Did you really not know anything about that? About your role in this, I mean. Or, do you have any idea  _ now _ what Snoke was referring to when he said you were playing a key part? I just...” 

Ren takes a deep breath and Hux appreciates the effort he’s putting into avoiding to make all of it sound like an accusation.

“I mean to say that this information I just gave you was the only secret I had left. Now you know everything Snoke made me keep from you, concerning this mission.”

_ You heard what Snoke instructed me to do  _ is what Hux wants to reply, but he understands that it’s not what Ren wants to hear him say. 

“I think he got the outcome he was hoping for, which was making you envious to further stoke the vitriolic tension between us. Snoke could preach to me about my immense value day and night now and I’d still remember how easily he’d get rid of me if he could. I’m not putting much trust in his praise anymore”, Hux finally says, knowing that this isn’t what Ren wants to hear him say, either. 

Ren listens, nods, but the creases on his forehead haven’t flattened out yet. 

“So you told me everything you know?”

There it is. The question Hux had been trying to avoid answering. The question that now forces him to lie.

Shame and discomfort bloom at the bottom of Hux’s heart, but there’s also a sudden, cold dedication that grows twice as fast and is twice as convincing. 

“Yes. I did.”

 

***

 

Hux’s eyes need a total of five minutes to adjust to the brightness outside just far enough to see the world in its actual colors. Somehow Ren doesn’t seem very bothered by the sudden lack of green, but he’s patient when Hux tells him his limited vision will make him trip over the next bump in the ground if they don’t stop and wait for his pupils to adapt to the blazing light.  

They continue their way soon enough, neither of them talking much. Again Ren appears to be fine with it whereas Hux doesn’t spend a single second not scrambling for any kind of topic to discuss. Nothing apt comes to mind, and whenever Hux  _ does  _ have a flash of genius it’s instantly busted by baseless, witless anxiety. 

It’s an acute, undefinable sort of fear Hux can’t recall ever having felt before. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, can’t say where the fear came from or how he’s supposed to get rid of it. It accompanies each of Hux’s steps and drains him, slowly but steadily. It feels like Hux is bleeding from a wound he can’t locate. He simply can’t justify this fear to himself - sure, neither he nor Ren knows what’s really awaiting them, but a bit of uncertainty technically shouldn’t make Hux feel like he’s being led to his execution. 

The best case scenario is not even a very unlikely one: The best way for this to go would have Ren and himself reach the temple, enter it without walking into any set traps, find the Ubiquitum after a few minutes of looking for it, retrieve it without further complications and flee in the surrogate shuttle Snoke has surely provided them somewhere on this planet. 

Usually, this would have been the part where Hux continues to constellate the worst case scenario, yet there’s a massive wall of frightened thoughts ruining every attempt at even letting his mind peek in that direction.  _ I can’t die yet  _ is one of them, as well as  _ I’m going to suffer. _

Maybe Hux really has already fallen prey to insanity. The days spent on this planet might have pushed him over the edge and he’ll never be able to let go of this fear ever again. He’ll spend rest of his life, the days that are still left of it, worrying about pointless things until working, sleeping, eating and finally breathing have no place in it anymore. 

“Don’t you think it’s curious”, Ren says out of nowhere, unaware of the pit Hux has momentarily fallen into, “that a planet so abundant with resources even exists, in this state? So close to completely untouched and nearly uninhabited? It was on our map, after all.”

“But we got that map from Snoke”, Hux finds himself saying, “Maybe he’s the only one who knows the coordinates.”

“You think he hid this entire planet from the galaxy’s gaze?”

“I don’t know what’s possible and what’s not when it comes to him, I assumed you’d know better. But the cropgold alone - do you have any idea how many super weapons could be financed with the supply of that field back there? Mystical Jedi water that can heal wounds and scars runs here in  _ rivers.  _ There’s an entire cave full of Kyber crystals that even you didn’t know about, and there might be more of its sort. Did Snoke ever tell you about the origins of his wealth?”

Hux’s previously frozen eyes now flick over to Ren, who seems to be brooding over Hux’s question.

“No. I don’t think I ever bothered to ask.”

It hadn’t been exactly Ren’s domain, either. If someone should have known about finances it’s Hux, or his father. Maybe Brendol Hux had known more about Snoke than he had cared to admit and never got the chance to pass the knowledge on, but Hux deems that unlikely.

“Not that it really matters now. But it would be a valid explanation for one or another influx of First Order capital.” 

“Ahni Khaleesa and her grandmother somehow found it”, Ren says, more to himself than to Hux.

“So you think they were real? Not some kind of… Force-manipulation from Snoke’s vast repertoire of tricks?”

“They must’ve been real. Whichever planet or ship Snoke is on right now, it’s too far away. Casting Force-projections from that kind of distance would be consuming too much energy, even for someone as powerful as Snoke.”

It sounds convincing and it ends their conversation, yet somehow Hux feels that Ren is not only trying to make Hux believe that, but himself, too. 

The next hour of walking is uneventful, only exceeded in its tediousness by the second hour of walking. As it turns out, there is no direct route to the temple and the path they’re following winds itself through various slopes and passageways, which turns a distance they would have otherwise easily covered in about an hour into an energy-sapping three hour journey.

Somewhere between the second and the third hour, Hux starts feeling it again. 

The pull has gained in strength and Hux can’t shake the feeling that its tenacity is not going to cease anymore, not before he’s reached the Ubiquitum. It’s as though that wretched stone has cast a fishing rod with the beautiful promise of power as bait, and now it’s reeling in the line Hux has unwittingly bitten on to at some point. 

Hux tries to imagine that the sensation is just another one of Ren’s attempts to help him and ease his steps, that it’s Ren’s Force-grasp guiding him into the right direction, but that only works until his hands start twitching nervously and cold sweat breaks out on his forehead - this energy is nothing like Ren’s. 

It’s much more powerful, much more demanding, offering itself in a much more appealing way. It leads Hux to believe that it’s already his. 

Ren must take note of Hux’s agitation, but seems to mistake Hux’s peculiar behavior for symptoms of regular nervousness. And since Hux prefers to sit this out in silence he doesn’t mind Ren’s lack of curiosity at all. 

In fact, Hux couldn’t be happier that Ren isn’t forcing him to lie again. 

A moment of carelessness allows Hux to embrace the idea of being reunited with the artifact, and of the all-consuming sense of belonging and inner peace that’s just within reach, the  _ possibilities -  _ Hux finds that thinking of the Ubiquitum this way makes his previous fear curl itself into a tiny ball and anticipation take its place. 

He interrupts his thoughts immediately when he feels Ren’s eyes on him.

“So”, Ren says, stopping in his tracks, waiting expectantly.

_ He heard it,  _ Hux thinks as the blood in his veins freezes,  _ it’s over, he heard it. _

“This is it.”

Hux’s boots drag across the gritty ground as he stops as well and rips himself out of his own anxious thoughts - he looks up and wonders for how long exactly he’s been staring at the dusty path at his feet. It must’ve been for quite a while, judging by how Hux comes to realize he’s lost orientation as he searches his surroundings. He squints in concentration. They’re at the foot of a mountain. Gazing ahead reveals that if they followed this path further, they’d reach the river. Its shore is so broad and replete with white sand that it could easily be considered a beach. 

To Hux’s right, Ren is waiting, stone still and staring at Hux like he’d stare at a sick pet about to be euthanized, and to Hux’s left -

The entrance. 

Alarmed that he’s apparently been so absorbed with fretting about pointless things that he didn’t even realize they’ve reached their destination, Hux turns hastily to properly regard the two lithic plates that function as door leaves. Their height surpasses Hux’s expectations by far - they must be nearly thrice his own size. Their fissured, highly weathered texture allows them to blend right in with the rest of the mountain’s surface, but not enough to really camouflage them. They still stand out as something that doesn’t belong, an anomaly that’s too smooth and geometric to be forged by nature. A bit of stray sunlight reaches the top half of the entrance, seemingly bisecting it with a diagonal cut. 

A tug in Hux’s chest makes him abandon his reverence for the doorway, and this time it’s so strong that he actually clutches at his collar reflexively. It seems to go unnoticed by Ren, but Hux suddenly isn’t worrying about that anymore - there’s only one thing he can and should zone in on, and that is not putting up resistance against what’s pulling him closer and closer. There’s no point in struggling if he’s the one on the more painful end of the fishing rod, if he’s the one that has bitten the hook. 

_ Careful now,  _ a voice in Hux’s head advises and he knows it’s right. As much as he’d like to break through this door immediately and begin to search for the Ubiquitum, he’d be a fool to rashly endanger himself like that. He needs Ren now, Ren’s knowledge and Ren’s abilities. Ren’s trust. 

“Can you feel -- anything?”, Hux asks tentatively, wishing he would’ve come up with a more elegant way to phrase that question.

He meant to ask whether Ren was sensing something, disturbances in the Force or whatever he likes to call it, and is surprised when Ren understands him despite his lack of eloquence.

“Yes, of course. It would be alarming if I didn’t. This place, or rather its residents at that time, concentrated the Force here by using and trying to understand it daily. That’s why it’s still strong and present in the temple’s ruins, the air, the weeds sprouting from every crack in the ground. And beyond that, this place is hiding something of great worth. I suspected as much - if Snoke wants it, it must be valuable.”

Hux hums in response. 

“Do you sense any dangers or traps in there? Or living beings, while we’re on the subject?”

“Nothing of that sort”, Ren says with a shake of his head, “There were no warnings during meditation, either. And ever since I banished Snoke from my mind I think my predictions have regained their reliability.”

“Excellent. Let’s not waste any more time then.”

The last word has barely left Hux’s mouth when he takes three ambitious steps towards the stone door, presses his hands flatly against the cold surface and pushes as hard as he can. Neither door leaf moves an inch, not even when Hux leans against it with his entire weight. 

Reluctantly, Hux looks back over his shoulder, expecting Ren’s tauntingly sly smile before he sees it. Just as he predicted, Ren doesn’t hide how much Hux’s frail attempt amuses him, his expression one of arrogance and perfect satisfaction; Yet Hux is not angered by it in the least. In fact, Hux realizes right this moment that he finds this kind of haughtiness appealing, in a way - not only because really  _ everything  _ is better than pity, but rather because Ren wears it so well. Derision looks good on him, and Hux wonders whether Ren has always looked like that underneath his mask whenever he’d mock Hux all those times in the past. Hux also wonders whether he would have found it just as disarming back then.

To make matters worse, Ren lifts his hand and effortlessly sets the two immense stone plates in motion without touching them, leaving Hux to watch in grudging admiration. Dust swirls up from the ground, the earth beneath Hux vibrates, gravel crunches as the massive weight that’s dragging across it grinds it, and within less than thirty seconds the way ahead is clear. 

“What were these people thinking when they designed these incredibly impractical doors? It’s like they made them so they’d have a chance to show off their impressive tricks every time they entered or left the building”, Hux grumbles and sniffs disdainfully, and Ren’s smile turns lopsided and affirmative.

“I imagine these doors used to be open at all times, back then. Before they were closed indefinitely.”

Hux cautiously walks towards the dark insides of the temple. When he crosses the threshold, he finds himself standing in a broad passageway that leads towards a sleek, grey staircase. He can’t see more than the first forty steps from where he stands. 

“Well judging by  _ your  _ little bragging display just now I’d say my version is closer to the truth”, Hux says after Ren has caught up with him. 

“You think  _ that  _ was impressive?”

Ren’s conceited tone speeds up Hux’s pulse, and it takes every bit of self-restraint to not to turn towards Ren and push him against the next wall.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you. If I say yes, can we proceed to do what we came here for?”

Their gazes meet and they consider each other shortly. There’s one last, hesitant moment of unnerving tension, and then Hux puts an end to all these distracting ideas by looking down. The sound of Ren swallowing has Hux assuming that Ren was engaged in a similar conflict, but he seems to join Hux in letting self-control make the decisions from now on. From the corner of his eye, Hux sees Ren nod, then proceed to shake off his bag and let it drop to the ground.

“I suggest we leave them here. They contain nothing that could help us in this place, anyway.”

Hux follows suit and frees his shoulders of the unnecessary weight, knowing it’s a reasonable thing to do - but when he and Ren start heading for the stairs, he can’t shake the feeling of being too light, poorly prepared and unprotected. Vulnerable. Even the absence of Hux’s blaster makes him incredibly uncomfortable despite it being broken and useless, and the lightsaber attached to Ren’s belt doesn’t really ease the nervous knot in Hux’s throat. The only things they’re taking with them are the electric lanterns.

The invisible hook that seems to have been plunged into Hux keeps pulling. Hux imagines that maybe it’s even been coated with an intoxicating substance to make him compliant, at least that would explain why he’s panting with exertion after ascending a singular flight of stairs. His head is spinning from the effort as they take the last step upwards and he can no longer resist bending over and clutching his knees to support himself. 

“What’s wrong? Hux?”

Hux tries his best not to wheeze. 

“I’m not sure. I might be dehydrated.”

“Do you need me to--”

“No, no. Thank you. I didn’t come this far to have you carry me across the finish line.”

At that, Ren actually snorts.

“What do you take me for, your personal transport shuttle? I wouldn’t carry you around, I’d give you a little more stability and wouldn’t even need to come near you to do it.”

“I meant it in a metaphorical sense”, Hux says, too short of breath to make it sound cutting, “and still, no. I have already recovered, we can move on.”

There’s severe skepticism on Ren’s features and Hux has the sudden urge to say something hurtful to make it disappear, but Ren is already walking ahead.

When the black dots disrupting Hux’s vision have waned, Hux finally gets a chance to take a closer look at the room that he’s standing in. It is, supposedly, the entrance hall of this building, with a high ceiling, lofty stone pillars shooting up in well-arranged, symmetrical lines to either side and a dry fountain in the middle. Weather and abandonment have left their marks on everything - there are broad patches of moss and other weeds covering floor and walls like green carpets in some places, especially in and around the fountain. The pillars are considerably well preserved since they appear to be made of a material more resistant than stone, but everything else is either strewn with cracks and liable to collapse or has already crumbled in on itself. 

A statue to Hux’s right catches his attention - it’s a person in a gown standing on a socket, one arm stretched out to the front, ready to strike an invisible opponent. The hand that Hux supposes used to hold a weapon is missing, as is the statue’s head. 

The only source of light are the opened doors at the other end of the stairs, which is why the whole place is shrouded in an unavoidable, depressing darkness. 

“Do you know the way, Ren? Or are we just going to wander around until we find something?”, Hux calls out louder than actually necessary, shivering as his own voice echoes through the hall. 

Ren turns around and peeks at Hux from behind the parched fountain. 

“I’ll focus on where the Force is strongest and that’s where we’ll go.”

“You’re not suggesting we split up?”, Hux asks, knowing it to be the most idiotic idea possible and meaning it as a taunt - but secretly, he’s very interested in Ren’s reaction. 

Feeling a grin spread on his face, Hux instructs his feet to catch up with Ren. When Hux is close enough, he’s met with a grin not unlike his own.

“Yes, let’s split up without any means of communication and sense of time. What did you do for a living again? Didn’t your job entail strategic thinking and planning…?” 

The tug in Hux’s chest may grow more nauseating with every minute, but Ren has the power to make Hux forget about it momentarily. 

“Big words for someone who technically never even had a job.”

Ren’s grin grows even broader, reaching into his eyes and lighting them up in the darkness, letting Hux catch a glimpse of his teeth. In Hux’s opinion, the only valid excuse for this expression to vanish would be Ren deciding to kiss him now. 

“Let’s find this thing”, Ren says almost conspiratorially, ignoring Hux’s retort.

In that moment, Hux thinks he might have done anything Ren would have asked of him. 

Hux nods, the guilt and the nausea from before as good as forgotten.

“Lead the way.”

And Ren does - they advance further into the depths of the temple, following the way marked out by the pillars until it’s getting so dark they have to light their lanterns. It’s getting gradually cooler and the air starts smelling old, stale. Hux imagines he feels the weight of the mountain above them, the masses of stone and earth probably just one fragile stone ceiling away from burying them alive. He shakes the feeling off, trusting Ren that this place is safe for them to roam. 

As they reach the end of the vast room they find another staircase that splits up at the top like a serpent’s tongue, one half leading to the left and the other to the right. They both lead to places the darkness has swallowed. Hux’s nails dig into his palms as he strains to resist the pull drawing him towards the left side of the staircase. 

“Left”, Ren declares suddenly and Hux gives a jolt. 

“Sorry”, Ren adds as he takes note of Hux’s fright, “We have to take the left staircase. There’s no need to hurry, though.”

Ren is most likely thinking of how close Hux came to collapsing after the first flight of stairs, and Hux is even grateful for his thoughtfulness, but Ren has no idea that he’s wrong. They  _ do  _ have to hurry. 

“Alright. Though I can’t say I’d mind if we got out of here again as quickly as possible - not the most welcoming place, if I’m being honest.”

With that, Hux starts climbing the stairs and notes that the pull is getting less unpleasant the faster he moves.

“Maybe you’d like it better if you could actually see your surroundings”, Ren calls up from behind him, voice perfectly unaffected.

Hux wants to snort, but only manages to hum in between renewed pants of overexertion.

“Surely.”

When Hux finally trips over a step for the first time and almost falls over, he feels the familiar presence of Ren’s invisible grasp holding him upright and making his steps steadier. Hux is too strung out to complain, despite the fact that Ren’s influence mingling with the pull of the Ubiquitum is reawakening his urge to retch. 

The stairs end just when Hux starts thinking they’re endless - this time he slumps down on what could have served as a bench once, desperately trying to calm his respiration. He weakly places his lantern next to his feet, drenching the grimy floor around them in a light blue. Ren appears next to him, looks down on Hux with unconcealed solicitude. The blue light from his lantern casts bizarre shadows on his face. 

“You’re not alright.”

“Fine”, Hux replies after he’s taken an unsteady breath, “I’m miserable. But it’s not relevant at the moment. It’s just this place, I’m sure I’ll feel better as soon as we leave it again.”

Ren looks so much like he’s about to protest that Hux is surprised when he turns away and leaves Hux to himself for a moment. Pinning his curious gaze to Ren’s back, Hux watches him explore where the staircase led them. 

It’s yet another spacious room, but except for a few benches that resemble the one Hux is sitting on, it’s empty. Hux gathers it’s not as grand as the entrance hall since he can see the walls that limit it, but it’s still of considerable size. Just as Hux starts asking himself whether the people who used to work here had some kind of night-vision, he notices the various fixtures installed on the walls that look like tiny baskets, which presumably used to hold either lanterns or torches. 

This entire location appears decidedly too dark and sinister to have been built by peace-loving, lighthearted Jedi, but Hux doesn’t ask Ren about it. 

“Are these doors?”, Hux inquires instead, seeing Ren examine two black blotches a good distance apart from each other at the other end of the room. 

“Yes. But there’s nothing of importance behind them. We need to go through one of these archways.”

Ren faces Hux and stretches out both of his arms to either side - there are indeed two archways to his left and to his right when Hux’s eyes flit from one side of the room to the other. Both archways frame pitch-black holes, making them look like the two dullest and simultaneously the most frightening paintings Hux has ever seen. 

A violent tug rips Hux’s body to the left, almost causing him to fall off the bench like a limp puppet.

“The left one”, Hux hears Ren say, and his voice sounds muffled as though he’s speaking from another room. 

But Ren is here, returning to Hux with a comically apologetic look on his light blue face.

“Another staircase. I think it should be the last one.”

Hux isn’t consciously getting up - his brain doesn’t need to give the order to do it, his muscles don’t strain at command. It just happens. He picks up his lantern in the same, distant fashion and stalks towards the left archway, reaching it before Ren does. Hux can feel it, too. This is the last torturous flight of stairs that takes them to their destination. 

The stairs seem to have been built in a spiral and each step is making Hux dizzier. He doesn’t know for how long they clamber upwards, can’t really concentrate on anything other than keeping his legs moving and keeping his lungs supplied with air. The icy light from the lantern crawls alongside Hux on the walls in jittery motions, unsteady like the hand holding it. They’re close, just a few more steps. Very close, just… Close, few more steps… a few more -- 

Hux topples over the last step and the lantern clanks as it hits the ground. His teeth click as his jaw collides with the unrelenting ground, their impact only softened by his tongue that was trapped between them. The air is knocked out of his lungs and he lies still, too exhausted to even groan in pain. A coppery taste unfurls in his mouth.

Behind Hux, Ren swears and rushes to kneel beside him. He’s talking excitedly, but only snippets get through to Hux -  _ sorry I didn’t, was suddenly gone, help  _ and _ upright now.  _

After the shock of falling has ebbed away and Hux’s mind returns to its former state, he finds himself sitting upright, leaning against what must be a wall. Ren is crouching right in front of him and grabbing Hux’s chin, tilting it upwards. The light of Ren’s lantern burns in Hux’s eyes, but he doesn’t shy away from it, patiently lets it happen until Ren lowers it again. 

“I could bring you back down, we can still do this tomorrow--”

“No. We can’t.”

The pull is, as Hux suddenly comes to acknowledge, the strongest it’s ever been, and what they’ve been looking for is just within reach. It’s like this knowledge is breathing new life into Hux - a foreign kind of vim that pushes aside the ache in each of his bones and neutralizes the taste of blood on his tongue. 

“The three doors behind you”, Hux mumbles, even though he’s aware that he didn’t even take a single look at the room they’re in, “Go and find out which one it is.”

But Ren does no such thing. Instead, he keeps inspecting Hux with a guilt-ridden expression, and asks him a question.

“Are you hurt?”

“No -- the doors, Ren, please.”

That does the trick. After a bit of initial bewilderment, Ren gets to his feet and turns away from Hux. As soon as there’s some distance between Ren and himself, Hux actually sees the three doors for the first time. He waits for the Ubiquitum to give him a hint, drag him towards the correct door, but the pull in his chest remains steadily nagging, evenly distributed. 

The tall, dark silhouette of Ren keeps on standing in front of the doors for a while, completely unmoving like one of the pillars in the entrance hall. 

“I think these doors all lead to the same room”, he finally says, which somehow lends Hux enough strength and motivation to first get to his knees, then force his feet to carry him in Ren’s direction.

The closer Hux gets, the more the doors take shape, and Hux keeps approaching until he can see the clean lines on their even surface. Something about them immediately strikes Hux as curious and out of place.

“They look well-preserved”, Hux points out, and after a bit of contemplation he adds “New.”

“They do”, Ren confirms, the fragility of his voice making Hux uneasy. 

“And they seem to be regular, old-fashioned blast doors, but the typical code pad to operate the security locks is missing.”

“I reckon it’s because they’re not regular blast doors.”

Before Hux can properly progress that information, Ren detaches the lightsaber from his belt and ignites it. It sluggishly flickers to life, first the main blade, then the crossblades. Hux reflexively takes a step back. 

The room is glowing in an angry red as Ren proceeds to cautiously bring the tip of the violently spitting weapon near the middle door. The saber stops a hand’s breadth away from it even though Ren seems to keep pushing it. There’s a deep hum as a bright flash of red makes Hux squint, followed by a ferocious cracking sound when the flame of the lightsaber slashes at the door. 

Ren deactivates the saber. His attack didn’t even leave a scratch. 

“It has additional protection of some sort”, Ren concludes.

“So what are we going to do?”

“Let’s see if I can touch it.”

“Ren--”

Ren however is not planning on discussing this with Hux - his hand darts forward and effortlessly connects, to their mutual surprise, with the lightsaber-resistant door. Hux holds his breath in anticipation and accepts Ren’s decision, doesn’t argue when Ren closes his eyes in serene concentration.

“I sense a complex mechanism securing these doors, extremely intricate and hidden from the average eye. Behind the doors, I sense something powerful that they’re guarding. And then, there’s something… Something else --”

The serene concentration turns strained in a matter of seconds. Hux can watch Ren attempting to identify something behind closed lids, yet Ren’s abrupt silence has Hux’s heart slam against the insides of his chest.

“What, Ren? What’s there?” 

Ren’s face contorts further until it resembles a mask of painfully deep focus - Hux wants to try and get his attention a second time, but before he can do so Ren rips open his eyes and retracts his hand from the door so quickly and forcefully he almost stumbles backwards from the movement.

The hope that Ren’s horrendously wide opened eyes are the product of a short moment of recognition disperses as Hux realizes they’re not growing back to their normal size.

Everything that’s happened to Hux during this mission, all the appalling and blood-curdling things Hux had to endure, couldn’t make his pulse rage the way it is now looking into Ren’s ridiculously terrified eyes - the pure horror in them makes Hux fall into a state of overall rigidity that even the strange pull couldn’t get him out of if it tried. 

Ren’s lips move, trying to form words but needing several attempts before they succeed. And when they do, it’s just one, lonely word that tumbles out, feeble, but heavy and atrocious nonetheless.

“--Snoke.”

A distant, continuous beeping begins chiming in Hux’s ears, high, thin and sickening.

“What about him?”

Ren is, most obviously, hallucinating. Ren would have seen that coming. He would have sensed it, seen it in his dreams, his inane  _ meditation,  _ there are a hundred ways in which Ren would have seen something like that  _ coming. _

“It’s like I feel -- it’s like I feel  _ him,  _ Hux. It’s his presence, I recognize it -”

“Okay, stop. Stop and  _ concentrate.  _ He must have found a way back into your mind somehow. Maybe if you quit focusing on thoughts about him, maybe if you ignore --”

“You don’t understand”, Ren hisses, angrily cutting Hux short like he’s been trying to do so for hours.

For the first time on this planet, Hux doesn’t want to understand the expression Ren is wearing. He nearly closes his eyes to escape it, but naked panic wrenches his lids open. Hux understands this expression very well and technically, Ren’s next two words are redundant - but he utters them anyway, bringing them to life against Hux’s will. 

“He’s here.” 

The beeping in Hux’s ears falls silent.

“Where exactly, Ren?”, Hux whispers, breathlessness making his movements erratic as he vigorously grabs Ren by the collar, “On this planet? Inside this temple?  _ Where is he?” _

Ren’s countenance remains just the way it is, fearful, petrified and hopeless, his mouth starts shaping a reply. 

A hissing sound interrupts him.

The door in front of them slides open with ease.


	20. Chapter 20

The throne Snoke is sitting on looks like it was built by someone who’s only ever heard stories about thrones, but has never actually seen one. It has something makeshift about it, an unfinished touch. 

It does serve its purpose, though - it sets Snoke apart from the rest of the room, puts him in a physically higher position than Hux, Ren, and the four Praetorian Guards Snoke brought with him. 

Hux can’t take in the entire room from where he stands rooted to the ground at the doorway, but he can ascertain that the throne wasn’t always part of the room and has been added recently. The main reason for that assumption is that this entire room looks like it wasn’t designed to be a throne room - there’s a circle of sordid stone chairs at the center of it, leading Hux to the conclusion that this must have been some sort of conference room once. A small, empty pedestal shoots up from the ground in the middle of the circle.

The truly special thing about this part of the temple is the light, though. The room is flooded not with artificial light, or the warm light of torches, no - bright daylight pours in from big, paned openings in the ceiling, illuminating the circle of chairs but leaving Snoke and his guards lurking in the shadows. 

It’s actually quite relieving, looking at something that’s not consumed by uncanny darkness, soothing like a pleasant dream and undoubtedly supposed to be welcoming, and Hux suddenly has trouble believing that any of this is even real. 

“No false modesty, please - come in, step forward, I have been waiting for you”, Snoke greets them calmly. 

Ren’s still aghast face destroys Hux’s hope that he’s delirious and just imagining things. Neither of them moves and Hux reckons they look like fools, paralyzed from shock like easily intimidated rodents. 

“Please”, Snoke repeats, “Don’t force me to drag you here. This mission has been strenuous, I understand, but your legs are intact, are they not?”

Hux wants to take a step forward but something stops him, freezes him in place. All of this must be fake, it  _ must  _ be a trick Hux’s mind is playing on him, but Snoke’s thoroughly relaxed features are like a slap across the face that jolts Hux awake and helps him come to terms with the fact that this scene is  _ reality.  _ A reality he ran into and has to accept because it can’t be helped.

“I’m not fond of repeating my--”

Snoke pauses and his face brightens as though he just remembered something important. 

“Oh, but I nearly forgot! General Hux, I have something that might persuade you to join me. Just let me lift the disguise, there’s no need to hide it anymore, wouldn’t you agree?”

Snoke’s small, amused eyes drop down to the pedestal in the midst of the circle below him and his wiry hand languidly flicks upwards, a gesture that could have been understood as dismissal under different circumstances. 

At the same time a small, oval-shaped stone appears on the previously empty pedestal, emanating a greenish glow and encasing a golden core. 

Hux’s eyes stay fixed on it for a while, only breaking away from it again when he realizes he’s unconsciously entered the room. In fact, he’s still walking, taking big, determined strides, until he comes to a halt behind one of the chairs. 

“Good! That’s more like it. And look, how readily my apprentice tails you. I took it as just another one of his little fooleries at first, a minor escapade, however it truly seems he has taken a twisted sort of liking to you.”

Blood-chilling delight drips from each of Snoke’s words, and Hux believes he can  _ feel  _ Ren’s anger arising, making the air sizzle. Ren is indeed standing next to Hux and he doesn’t need to turn his head to be sure of it. 

“What’s the meaning of all this?”, Ren barks, every trace of humility gone, “What was the point of you sending us here?”

A shadow flits across Snoke’s face, but the revolting content is back on it soon enough. 

“The point”, he mutters, his wrinkly hands now clawing at the throne’s armrests, “was that everybody would get what they deserve.”

Hux hears Ren inhale, ready to talk back, but Snoke is faster.

“You are two very clever men. I trust that you don’t need me to elaborate on what people who fail me deserve, particularly people who give me a beyond  _ underwhelming  _ performance in exchange for my trust. The sum of all the tormenting experiences you’ve had during the past days was no more than a disciplinary measure that was  _ long due.” _

Ren only huffs a humorless laugh. 

“Your lies used to be more believable.”

Dread bubbles up in Hux’s chest as Snoke abruptly rises from his throne, the satisfaction gone from his face. 

“Watch your tone, boy”, Snoke growls slowly, stretching every word.

“That’s not the only reason you put us through all this. There’s something else. This thing.”

Hux mentally sees Ren point at the Ubiquitum; physically, he watches Snoke rigidly continuing to stand in the same spot. If he concentrates hard enough, Hux thinks he can see the legs beneath the golden robes trembling. 

“The Ubiquitum?”, Snoke asks in feigned surprise, “Yes. Of course that would not slip your notice. But I feel like there’s someone here who could tell you all about it. General Hux, would you care to educate my apprentice? What does it feel like to finally have the power you always dreamed about just within reach?”

That’s the moment Hux knows it’s truly, irreversibly over.

“What?”, Ren’s voice feebly sounds in Hux’s right ear, the word breaking it like a dry stick. 

Blood rushes to Hux’s face, his ears, his neck, his throat tightens until only very little air fits through. A thought without clear origin shoots to the front of Hux’s consciousness - he wishes Snoke would just free him of this abysmal shame and end him. 

Brown eyes rest heavily on Hux, weigh down on him so intensely that his legs feel wobbly. It’s no use struggling against it. Hux has to look at Ren and face what he should have faced much sooner.

There’s no anger when Hux has turned his head fully. No fury, no sneer, no reproach. It’s something far worse: A stunned, profound disappointment that hits Hux like a punch to the gut. Somewhere behind his ribcage, Hux feels something breaking and slowly bleeding dry. 

“Ren, I didn’t--”

“You knew about it”, Ren states, free of emotion like he’s a subordinate reporting to Hux, “You really did.”

“It’s not that easy, Ren! I wanted to talk to you about it but --”

“My only purpose was to get you here safely - you didn’t say anything so you’d be the only one to know how to use this thing eventually.”

“No.  _ No.  _ Is that what you think of me?”, Hux half stammers, half shrieks, feeling his chest constrict.

“I don’t  _ know  _ what to think of you!”, Ren shouts without hesitation, unable to keep up his indifferent tone, “Right now it looks a lot like I told you everything I know while all  _ you  _ did was lie for your own advantage!”

Hux swallows, but the lump in his throat makes it difficult. There’s a familiar burn right behind his eyes.

“You can’t mean that.”

There’s no need for a reply - Ren is, by now, shaking all over, face pale and furious, hands curled to fists and knuckles gone white. 

“Listen, I’m  _ sorry--” _

An ugly sneer contorts Ren’s mouth before he starts rushing towards Hux, his stance reminding Hux of the Mantessan panthac.

But the moment Ren is close enough for Hux to see the tiny red veins in his eyes, he stops abruptly and with a grunt. Hux hastily retreats, putting a safe distance between himself and Ren.

Ren’s whole body is quivering, frozen in place, and no sound leaves him. Hux releases the air he was holding in his lungs all at once and peers back at Snoke, who has his hand stretched out and his eyes focused on Ren in angry slits. 

Shaking his head, Hux tries to protest.

“No, let me--”

“Spare me that!”, Snoke roars, silencing Hux immediately, “The pity you feel for Kylo Ren is irrelevant! You don’t owe him an apology, you owe him  _ nothing.  _ What matters is one crucial understanding, one that  _ he  _ has already accepted but  _ you _ are yet to internalize--”

Next to Hux, Ren is breathing harshly against Snoke’s Force-restraints and it makes Hux yearn to cover his ears. 

“-- Some things are just not meant to be.”

Hux’s eyes flutter shut and his mind produces an image of Ahni Khaleesa. When he opens them again and they land on Snoke, Hux knows with certainty that she had been one of his creations.

“Now that this is settled”, Snoke continues as he slowly lets his hand sink and rivets on Hux again, “let me make one thing very clear -  one of you two will prove himself to me today, and the other will die. I’ve seen it as clearly as I see you now, General Hux. One will win, which can only mean that the other will lose. That is the essence of every good game. And  _ this  _ game right here is, if I may say so, one of my better creations. At one point or another, you two may have falsely assumed you  _ knew  _ how to play it, but then it seems you started forgetting you were playing altogether! That is, I think, proof of the quality of my design.”

Bile rises in Hux’s throat, sharp and etching.

Ren is still silenced and trapped in his offensive stance, thunderstruck, statuesque. 

“He wants to kill you, General. His heart, what’s left of it, is broken, and he knows that I’ll allow only one of you two to return to me. He has understood that only one of you can _ live. _ I see his mind, and this time, the truth - as soon as I release him”, Snoke declares excitedly, grinning like he’s reaching the punchline of a particularly hilarious joke, “he’s going to slice your throat.”

Hux believes he hears a whimper next to him, yet he tries not to be too pained by it.

Sorrow begins to creep up within Hux, blue and grave and slow, and Hux is so close to giving in to it and allowing himself to break down right here, right now. 

However, one of his few voices of reason has other ideas - it fights its way out of the prison Hux had built around it in his despair and practically screams at him to  _ use his brain. _

Ren wouldn’t slice Hux’s throat, not even if Hux’s betrayal were more hurtful and more far reaching than it already is. The furious glint in Ren’s eyes may be frightening, he may have been ready to attack Hux out of impulse, but it’s not murderous intent that drives him, it’s hurt. Plain and simple. Hurt Ren has every right to feel.

_ Then again,  _ that same voice of reason says,  _ what difference does it make? He might not want to kill you, but he’ll never trust you again. _

The irritating beeping starts ringing in Hux’s ears again and the image of Snoke turns into a glistening, blurry puddle of gold. 

“I have trouble understanding the roots of your distress, General. This is a necessary riddance - when Kylo Ren became my apprentice, one of my first lessons for him was about baggage and attachments. While you mourn his new coldness towards you,  _ he  _ is already grateful you made it so easy for him to let go of this treacherous alliance. What you are about to face can only be faced alone.”

Incapable of blinking, Hux just stares at the golden blotch until all lines and edges sharpen again. His heart feels like a fathier competing in a race, beating as fast as it can while someone is goading it on with an electric pike. It seems like Snoke is staring right into him, with wise eyes that seem to know Hux better than Hux knows himself. 

“Now, before we begin, a word of praise! You have proven to be most resilient, more tenacious than even _I_ could have anticipated. Yes, you managed to surprise me. It’s almost like you were _made_ to endure pain!”, Snoke chuckles, and the sound could have been taken straight from one of Hux’s nightmares. 

“And all of that without the gift of Force-sensitivity! I will go as far as to say you effortlessly overshadowed my apprentice, who enjoyed  _ years  _ of  _ my  _ training and still failed nearly every test I set for him on this mission. It leaves me wondering if it’s the student who’s to blame here, or whether it really is the teacher.”

Hux’s now more or less vacant gaze lands on the Ubiquitum. It would take two, maybe three steps to get to it. For a split-second, he lets himself indulge in this idea - he could walk over, take it and -

“Don’t make a decision you’ll come to regret, General. Using the Ubiquitum will tear your fragile human body into shreds. As I have told you before - you may be too weak to handle what the Ubiquitum has to offer, but I am not.”

Snoke pauses, considering Hux with an expression that is most likely supposed to convey sympathy. The friendliness may be false, but Hux believes the substance of Snoke’s statement to be true.

“However, if there is one thing you can be sure of, it’s this: Once you quit doubting me, my power will be yours equally. You will have to share it with no one but me, and someday soon, you will have it to yourself entirely.”

Finally, Hux manages to snap back to his senses fully. Snoke’s words wind through Hux’s head like chewy meat through a grinder as he tries to grasp their meaning. 

They give Hux a feeling he can’t quite categorize initially, but after repeating Snoke’s praise in his head once more he’s able to put a finger on it. 

It’s modesty. The embarrassment of receiving an unearned compliment.

“You’re wondering what all of this, what this artifact, has got to do with you. You’re not to blame, you’ve never been very inclined to understand the mystical aspects of life, have you? Except this once, of course, that one time, where you found this stone, this beautifully enchanting object. And that was the day you should unknowingly become the most valuable man for me, General Hux.”

Hux now listens so intently that he forgets to breathe for a solid fifteen seconds, though none of it makes sense yet - until recently, Hux didn’t even  _ believe  _ in the Force. And he hasn’t made too much progress since. He’s come to terms with it, has acknowledged its existence and the power that can come with it, has maybe even found himself somewhat intrigued by the topic, but that can hardly be a foundation for the importance Snoke is obviously ascribing to him. 

“You still don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t”, Hux confirms truthfully. 

“Pick it up.”

Hux’s hesitation doesn’t wipe the patience from Snoke’s hideous face.

“Don’t be afraid. Pick it up”, Snoke instructs a second time, now feebly gesturing in the general direction of the pedestal. The hand he lifts is unsteady, Hux notes.

Not feeling like he has much of a choice, Hux pointedly blanks out how Ren’s breaths next to him speed up and sets his feet in motion. Just like he calculated, less than three steps are necessary to reach his destination.

Close enough to see the leisurely swirl of the golden substance trapped within the artifact, Hux has trouble keeping the uncomfortably tight anticipation from stirring up the breakfast in his stomach. Even the distant feeling of doing the right thing can’t ease it.

For one, ridiculous moment, Hux expects the Ubiquitum to start whispering again, until he remembers that the whispers might have been one of Snoke’s illusions, too. 

Sobered, he takes one last look at it before his cold hand closes around the equally cold stone.

“When the Ubiquitum revealed itself to you”, Snoke starts patiently, his slippers rustling faintly as he scuffs a few steps in Hux’s direction, “it didn’t do so by accident. It  _ chose  _ you, and it hasn’t chosen anyone else since, despite its vanishment back then. It didn’t choose a powerful Jedi, or a Sith Lord, or any other skilled Force-user, no. It chose  _ you,  _ a non believer. A technocrat. A peculiar choice, but there’s a reason to everything the Ubiquitum does - it saw past the mystical, past any attunement to the Force, and chose you because you’re a  _ leader.” _

This time, Hux  _ feels  _ Snoke’s words. He soaks them up, revels in them while an unfamiliar lightheartedness takes ownership of his body. Holding the Ubiquitum now is an alleviation rather than a burden, patches Hux’s inner wounds up like a medical droid, cleanses away all of his worries like they’re nothing more than grimy little spots on a windshield. 

A small part of Hux, one that has been with him for so long he considers it an old companion, isn’t even the slightest bit surprised.  _ I knew it all along,  _ it whispers, and Hux nearly nods in agreement.

_ You  _ were _ destined for greatness after all.  _

Hux’s hand starts vibrating in the most barely palpable way. There’s a connection Hux can’t wrap his mind around fully - a  _ bond,  _ stronger than anything he’s ever felt - and it’s breathtakingly good. 

This must be pure, absolute elation.

“Do you understand now, General? I respect the Ubiquitum’s choice - even if I haven’t seen through it entirely yet - and therefore, the might and potential it offers shall be split up evenly between you and me. The day I meet my end is near, I feel it in my bones, and the First Order will need a Supreme Leader. And after the First Order has risen far enough, the galaxy will need an Emperor. I once believed Kylo Ren would be the one to rule after me, but it seems I was profoundly mistaken.”

Supreme Leader Hux.  _ Emperor Hux.  _ It’s indisputable that the idea makes Hux ache in the best possible way. That’s what Hux’s life has been revolving around for as long as he can remember - it’s never been the idea of a family that had kept Hux going, or friends, the promise of material wealth or even inner balance. Hux’s eternal, reliable incentive has always been the belief that he’d one day reach the top. He’s always known that the ascension would be time-consuming, nerve-wracking and potentially even physically excruciating, but still he’s remained loyal to the thought that someday it would all have been worth it. 

And now, it appears, the air on the mountain that is Hux’s career is finally getting thinner. 

Hux no longer finds it difficult to meet Snoke’s obnoxiously cheerful gaze.

“But even though the Ubiquitum bestowed this honor upon you, you are unfortunately not fit to accept it to its  _ full  _ extent. And keeping the Ubiquitum while  _ knowing  _ you’ll never be able to make use of it will drive you insane. It is my sole desire to free you of this burden.”

Then, Snoke unexpectedly falls silent, as though giving Hux the chance to progress this information. What’s even more curious is that for the first time since they entered this room, Snoke seems to be interested in getting a reaction from Hux - despite not having asked an explicit question.

Irritation is suddenly quickening Hux’s previously sluggish thought processes. It sits in his chest, uncomfortably warm, and it arouses a different sentiment - protective suspicion.

That irony is too cruel to possibly be real. A powerful artifact chose to obey Hux, it’s  _ his,  _ just like it was meant to be, but due to some unfortunate circumstance he doesn’t have any use for it?

Hux is just a few words away from attaining everything he’s been working towards, to sit in the throne that was meant for him, and Snoke expects him to  _ share? _

The Ubiquitum belongs to Hux, and being generous has never been Hux’s strong suit.

“If I’m not strong enough to use it”, Hux starts, the irritation growing, “why did it choose me in the first place?”

Snoke grins, exposing miniscule, crooked teeth.

“General Hux. Ever the skeptic.”

An icy shudder runs down Hux’s spine, but he’s not afraid. He remains quiet and keeps his back straight under Snoke’s razor-sharp grin.

“As I said, it is a choice I have not yet understood fully. The Ubiquitum must have known that I would be there to help you.”

Hux feels his brows lifting against his will as he wonders whether he just heard correctly.

“Help me?”

“Yes, of course! Did you think empty, precarious promises of thrones and titles were all I had to offer to my future successor? It took much time, much patience and deep focus, but I have found a way for you to use the Ubiquitum. A way I am willing to teach you.”

It’s hard not to give in to the reflex of letting his jaw drop, but Hux successfully resists it. 

Hux longs to say something, show any kind of reaction other than staring at Snoke in disbelief and awe, but his mind resembles a crowded bridge full of incompetent officers while the ship is under attack. 

Were he even a little less overwhelmed, Hux might have started harboring suspicions at this point, but as it is his head is full of  _ use the Ubiquitum  _ and  _ willing to teach you. _

And were the Ubiquitum in Hux’s deadly cold hand any less appealing, Hux would’ve met Snoke’s next words with nothing but distrust. 

“Before I can help you, however, you must help  _ me,  _ General.”

But as it is, Hux considers the proposal and doesn’t so much as flinch.

There is a possibility, a chance that what Snoke is suggesting will  _ work out.  _ Thinking about it realistically, Hux doesn’t have much of a choice. 

If Snoke genuinely values Hux and is ready to consider him an equal, maybe Hux could convince him to spare Ren. Hux can’t go back to Ren, that much is sure - he may already be familiar with Ren’s hatred, yet he knows that the hatred Ren feels for him  _ now  _ is of a different kind. It’s a type of hatred Hux would never be able to ignore. A hatred Hux couldn’t  _ endure.  _ Hux would have chosen Ren, just like Ren had chosen him, would have valued his favor above anyone else’s. But Ren doesn’t want to be Hux’s choice anymore. 

Which is why now, Hux’s place must inevitably be with Snoke again.

Once more, Hux’s consciousness attempts to struggle. Just a few hours ago, Hux had been ready to get rid of Snoke, he’d wanted to be free of him and he’d been full of conviction, of contempt for his former Supreme Leader. 

Snoke’s expression changes and Hux immediately knows that his thoughts haven’t gone unheard.

“Yes, you doubted me. And yes, it angered me, as I had expected you to put as much faith in me as I have always put in you. But my initial desire to punish you was the desire of an old fool, set in his ways. I pondered what made you question me, and used the time I would have otherwise spent on thinking of a punishment to  _ understand  _ your motivation. Wasn’t it my own doing, my own  _ harshness  _ that made these doubts arise inside of you? After you’ve helped me gain access to the Ubiquitum, I shall make up for it. After you have activated it, your time shall dawn.”

Snoke has never admitted a mistake before. Not once, not in all the years Hux has served under him. It feels alien to hear him talk like this, but also incredibly satisfying.

“Teaching you will be a long and tedious process. However, before either one of us has any use for the artifact at all, it must be activated. Since it presently listens to you, you must be the one to do it.”  

The frantic breaths Ren is taking through his nose have meanwhile become just another background noise to Hux. He pays them as much attention as he would pay a bird in the woods. 

It might just be the way Snoke phrased it, but Hux feels more valuable than he has in a long time. This is a task only he can fulfill - it’s like a compensation for all the pain Hux had to endure to see that Snoke is finally forced to acknowledge Hux’s indispensability. There’s only one more thing Hux needs to know to make it work.

“How?”

Ren manages to grunt, but the sound barely reaches Hux’s ears. 

The smile that spreads on Snoke’s face then is one of ill-concealed victory, his nod is slow and full of understanding. 

“All you have to do is say the words you know so well by now. The words you have made your mantra. You must be cautious not to use the Ubiquitum the way I showed you in the vision - I hope you remember the pain, and I trust that you’re not interested in experiencing it again. I still need you, healthy and sane. Say the words, and the words  _ alone,  _ clear your mind completely, the way my apprentice so effectively taught you. Then, place the artifact on the ground in front of you.”

Hux knows how to clear his mind - he’s done that before. Speaking the words - a triviality. He concludes that what is asked of him is manageable, he’s more than capable of following these instructions, and his inevitable reaction to that is relief.

The words are right there. All Hux needs to do is give the order to free them. Giving orders and making decisions are things Hux is versed in doing. 

Decision-making, however, requires a clear head, and even then there’s no guarantee that the decision you opt for is the right one. Perhaps, if Hux had a clear head right now, the decision he’s about to make would turn out differently. 

But Hux’s head is, for a fact, filled to the brim with conflicting thoughts, which is why one of them crosses his mind in just the right moment - it’s swift, random, and as much an unlikely coincidence as seeing a shooting star on a cloudy night on Arkanis. 

_ He wants a throne, and he wants to be the only one sitting on it. _

It’s impossible to determine where it came from, but it clears the ideas born out of despair and weakness for false praise from Hux’s mind like a wind gust would clear featherweight clouds hiding the sun. 

Hux had said this to Ren when he’d still been mostly in his right mind, when he’d come to the conclusion that Snoke would  _ never  _ share his power and was using Ren and Hux like tools from his toolbox. 

Back then, Hux had realized that his worth wasn’t determined by how strongly Snoke believed in it, that the only one who had any say in what Hux could or could not achieve was  _ himself. _

Thinking that Hux doesn’t have much of a choice right now is a falsehood, a desperate attempt at making things appear easier than they are. In truth Hux  _ has  _ a choice, he’s just too afraid to make it. 

It’s not only Snoke’s golden path that stretches out before Hux, even, bright and ready to be followed. 

There’s another path, shadowy, uninviting, uneven and built on friable ground. It leads straight into the darkness and has no definite end, but it’s  _ there, _ suddenly offering itself to Hux to be taken into consideration. 

That path is his own. 

_ You’re risking your position - if not your life - to give me this idea of a future in which we are allies rather than enemies. I wish I could see what drives you, what you’re doing it for. _

Hux had been doing it for Ren. For Ren and for  _ himself.  _ He’d taken an incredible risk because he had believed that what he and Ren had was worth keeping, worth putting himself in danger for. 

Ren is still alive, still breathing right next to Hux, and while he might feel betrayed and despise Hux for what he did, he must despise Snoke more. And Hux is still alive as well, he still has the power to walk his own path and see where he ends up. The darkness at the end of it might obscure something terrifying beyond Hux’s imagination - but it could just as well hold a life Hux has always dreamed of living.

Activating the Ubiquitum for Snoke would equal agreeing to a dictated life. A life in which Hux could command bigger armies, have more authority, be in a higher position than anyone he knows, but could never forget that all of it was based on a decision that was put into his mouth. It would certainly not be the last decision to be made for him.

This dictated life has, for a fact, no Ren in it. His own path on the other hand - as horridly insecure as it may seem - has a tiny, rundown road sign that points towards a future in which Ren can forgive Hux, a future in which everything will turn out just fine.

A more rational version of himself would have questioned his sanity - Hux used to want the power Snoke is offering more than anything and anyone, he would have stopped at nothing to call it his own, and it’s true: he can’t deny that he  _ still _ craves it.

But not like this.

“No”, Hux says, and the monosyllabic word fills the room with the power of an entire speech. 

The following silence is equally powerful, yet in a by far more frightening way. 

Hux expects to see a change on Snoke’s face, expects the pleased smile of a winner to be replaced by the angry sneer of a runner-up. But the satisfaction stays, as though engraved. 

“No?”, Snoke repeats, and if the menacing pitch of his voice is any indication, the pleased smile is merely a facade.

There’s fury simmering underneath Snoke’s skin, Hux can feel it making the air shift, but somehow he keeps it at bay. Smugness is still twinkling in the haunting eyes Hux keeps looking into, leading Hux to believe that they’ll always see farther than his own, making sure Snoke is constantly one step ahead.

“That is  _ most  _ unfortunate. Sadly, your reluctance to cooperate doesn’t change much, General. You are still going to activate the artifact for me, and the only thing that changes will be my willingness to let you live afterwards.” 

Hux is not given any time to react. Snoke is lifting his hand before Hux can so much as blink, and  _ now  _ his expression darkens considerably. It looks like a storm is raging across his sunken face, finally ripping off Snoke’s beloved mask of content.

“You will repeat the following words”, Snoke says, and it’s only due to the calmness of his voice that Hux doesn’t start panicking.

At first, Hux wants to laugh - he’s ready to refuse Snoke a second time, the second  _ no  _ is already at the tip of his tongue.

But then he feels it.

His mind is blanking, every single one of his thoughts slipping through his fingers when he tries to hold onto them. Fog expands in Hux’s head, impenetrable and soothing, flooding Hux with relaxation and carelessness. Hux’s entire vocabulary vanishes and for a moment he thinks that this is what droids must feel like while having their memories wiped - he’s losing control over his limbs because the words to give them orders are inaccessible.

Only six words remain after the cleanse is complete, and Hux feels the desire to  _ say them  _ growing until it’s an urge that can’t be fought. 

“I will repeat the following words”, Hux hears himself saying, voice as life- and mindless as the rest of him. 

It feels good to say it, liberating. It’s like each word tumbling out of Hux equals one heavy weight that’s slowly being lifted from his shoulders and he almost sighs at how light he suddenly feels. 

“Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill”, Snoke dictates with the calm of a prompter.

Hux’s six word vocabulary is rebuilt, extended, enriched with five new words. And again, the urge to vocalize them grows, making Hux subliminally feel like a dog learning a new trick, eager to demonstrate it to its owner and desperately hoping for a treat.    

“Mern”, Hux starts, happy with how easily the word rolled off his tongue. 

In a way it feels like giving in to an itch caused by the bite of an insect - you’re faintly aware that scratching it won’t improve your condition in the long run, but once you allow yourself to alleviate the unnerving sensation it’s hard to stop and you suddenly can’t remember why you refrained from scratching the bite in the first place. 

“Isk… Grek…” 

Ren’s body in Hux’s blind angle has started to shiver uncontrollably and he’s panting like he’s been running for hours, yet Ren could free himself from Snoke’s grasp now, yell at Hux and shake him and Hux would neither hear his voice nor feel his touch.  

“Herf, Tr--”

Hux pauses.

Not deliberately - something is stopping him. It’s just one more word, one last, simple word, yet something is preventing it from passing Hux’s lips. The pressure starts growing immediately and Hux’s forehead dampens.  

It’s a sensation that originates in the icy artifact that has begun to quiver in Hux’s hand. A feeling that crawls underneath Hux’s skin, wanders up his arm to then noisily ring in his head, like an urgent call that does everything to not be ignored. 

The eleven words Hux was just taught are driven out by the sound until only emptiness is left.

Darkness surrounds Hux, pitch black, stifling like a too tight embrace.

And then, the Ubiquitum tells Hux a story no one but him has heard before. 


	21. Chapter 21

Skaaran hated the Jedi.

They were overbearing, ignorant fools, ascribing an importance to themselves that couldn’t be justified. He hated the way they believed themselves above everybody else, with the sole foundation for that arrogance being powers they were given at birth, a gift by nature they had in no way worked for.

Skaaran also hated the Sith.

Their pretentious and elitist mindset equaled that of the Jedi - it simply manifested itself in a different way. They loved seeing themselves as the Jedi’s _opposition,_ the _dark, stronger side of the coin,_ and the belief that the ways of the dark side were superior to those of the light was no less foolish than the belief that there was righteousness in exclusively studying the light side.

No one but Skaaran seemed to acknowledge the problem with this societal deficiency.

Everyone was either part of that quarrel or observing it, watching in mindless awe and expressing their pointless opinions about it at the dinner table or at a bar, pretending to have even the slightest clue about the Force or the religions that were built around it.

Skaaran disdained most of the beings in this galaxy, for that matter. His wife liked to claim it was jealousy - she kept telling him that he’d be thinking differently about it all if he were gifted with Force-sensitivity, too. At first he’d been angered by the thought because there may or may not have been some truth to it, but after she’d started mocking him regularly it had become a joke between the two of them, something they lovingly shared.

She didn’t mind his hatred for the galaxy, because she too had turned her back on it. Skaaran knew that she hadn’t done so voluntarily; the galaxy had turned its back on _her,_ first. She was mocked by her race for her appearance - _the walking skeleton,_ she’d been called, _wire on legs._ Skaaran had never understood it. To him, her beauty had always been otherworldly, she’d always been ethereal in his eyes.

But it wasn’t only her looks that made him fall for her - above all she had a strong mind, was fierce in a way Skaaran could only aspire to be. Others would call her ideas _cruel,_ or _inhuman,_ but Skaaran knew the people claiming this were simply too weak to handle her.

The galaxy wasn’t ready for her views, just like it wasn’t ready for Skaaran’s.

They were alike in so many more ways than one, and often Skaaran thought of her as his savior.

Even with her eyes full of open concern and doubt, the way they often were these days, Skaaran knew that she would die for him, just like he would die for her.

Skaaran was aware that she’d started worrying about him. He could even pinpoint the exact day she’d started. He knew her better than anyone, sometimes it felt like he knew her even better than himself, and there was no need for her to express her doubts for Skaaran to notice she was concerned.

It had begun the day Skaaran had let her in on his plan. The plan that could, in his opinion, have an unpredictably vast impact.

It was no secret that Skaaran had always been intrigued with the Force and everything it entailed, with every way it occured and behaved, with every way it could be used, and with all the ways in which it held the galaxy together and connected everything and everyone living in it. He was no user, but he was a _believer,_ and he believed unconditionally and with every fiber of his being. He could never pick one side of the Force if he had to, like the Jedi or the Sith did - he’d never understood how one could consciously choose to learn only one half of the truth.

Skaaran had never seen the point in limiting himself - he’d always wanted to know _everything._

The awareness that he’d never been and would never be able to bend the Force, connect to it and manipulate it the way he saw fit had started eating him up the moment he’d learned about the concept, and trying to learn everything there was to know about it eased this pain at least somewhat. Skaaran had dedicated his life to understanding the Force, had started hiding in libraries and the safety of the house he’d moved into on his own at the age of thirteen, and every day he’d soaked up every bit of knowledge he could get his hands on.

His obsession had grown consistently, the books he’d been reading had pulled him into the worlds they created, until Skaaran’s former possessions, his family and his friends had become nothing more than blurry, old memories.

No one had been able to get through to him, except for the girl he’d met in the woods - the girl that had somehow gotten her hands on her father’s kitchen knife and had been letting it hover right above her wrist for hours before Skaaran had found her. The girl that was now his wife. He’d known it the moment he’d been able to see her watery eyes: she belonged with him. They were of different races, but it didn’t matter in the least. Skaaran had known immediately that they shared something that made race, appearance, gender, religion or even political affiliation insignificant. He’d taken the knife from her and she hadn’t put up resistance. He’d asked for her name, and she’d told him it was Renee.

She’d always allowed him to be passionate about the Force, and he’d allowed her to be passionate about artifacts and gems - they’d learned to understand each other to the point of making words as a means of communication redundant.

But the day had come that her understanding for Skaaran’s obsession had begun waning. She hadn’t told him right away, knowing he was easily angered and sensitive when it came to that particular topic, but she had started letting him know in different ways that she didn’t fully agree with how things were developing. When he spoke she’d raise her brows at him sometimes. She’d listen, but she’d stop offering advice. She’d give him worried glances when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

In the beginning, it had made Skaaran nervous and insecure. She had always supported everything he had set his mind to, and he had done the same for her. Then, it had irritated him - how dare she question him, after he gave everything to make her feel loved and understood? And finally, he had stopped caring about her opinion concerning that matter altogether.

He remembered the day he’d received her first look of doubt, more clearly than he remembered the face of his own mother. He remembered exactly what she’d said to him after he’d revealed to her what he’d been working on.

 _“I don’t know if that’s going to work out the way you think”,_ she’d said, baffling him into speechlessness.

Then she’d noticed Skaaran’s bewilderment and had watered down her first reaction by saying _“Just be careful.”_

 _“What are you so worried about? Do you think I’m not skilled enough to try?”,_ he’d asked, not really meaning it. He knew how much Renee adored him, knew that the only thing she was scared about was the possibility of losing him.

_“Of course not. Just promise me you’ll stop if you start feeling like it’s affecting you in a negative way.”_

Her big, mousy gray eyes had gone round and her sunken, sharp-edged face had paled, making her thin, dark hair appear even darker.

He had then agreed to promise to be careful, knowing it would satisfy her for the time being - but deep down he’d known that if implementing his idea would require making sacrifices, he’d make them.

That had been almost precisely two years ago. Now, Skaaran was sitting across from Renee at their kitchen table, his chest full of warm, bubbly excitement, the way it usually was whenever he’d present his ideas to her.

“It was like an epiphany”, he declared, leaning forward in his agitation, “it’s _the_ solution. And since it came to me while I was examining your gem collection, _you_ should get half the credit!”

He’d meant it as a joke, but Renee didn’t smile. Her thin lips remained tightly pressed into a flat line.

“The power I’d be trying to transfer can’t be absorbed by a subject directly. The raw power would, in its original state, kill the subject. Remember when I told you about that, Ren?”

Renee made no move to reply.

“A transfusion of midi-chlorians as they are won’t work. What I need is a _transmitter._ One that can redirect the detracted life force, maybe even _store_ it. It would result in decidedly more control over the process. I haven’t found the perfect material for the creation of that transmitter yet, but the end result must be handy and resilient in equal parts - just like one of your gems.”

Except for a few water drops repeatedly hitting the metal of the sink behind Skaaran, the room was quiet. The look on Renee’s face was indecipherable.

“Think about it. Not only would that allow the recipient to absorb the life force of the subject more gently - if I manage to make this transmitter _indestructible,_ it would keep the powers safe for me or simply release them at my command as soon as old age weakens me.”

Suddenly, Renee’s dull eyes lit up.

“Are you… Are you talking about immortality?”, she asked so quietly that the dripping water nearly drowned out her voice.

“Not yet”, Skaaran replied truthfully, “but that may be the last step.”

“Let me help you.”

Renee’s offer took Skaaran by surprise, and a broad smile spread across his face. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt this joyful.  

“So you mean to craft a transmitter”, she started with unexpected excitement, “that not only creates artificial Force-sensitivity, but is capable of draining the life from people. A transmitter that could possibly also _store_ the absorbed life force and make it available for you.”

“Precisely”, Skaaran replied, his grin growing even wider.

“You said you’d need something corporeal that’s handy as well as resilient, like one of my gems. Does anything speak against actually using a type of mineral?”

“A stone is hardly fit to endure a transfer of that kind.”

“Not just a _stone,_ Skaaran. What about, let’s say, a Kyber crystal?”

“Yes, that… I’ve thought about that, and the material wouldn’t be all too inadequate. The attunement to the Force would also be a factor that would play into my cards in terms of connection and communication. The transmitter will have to correlate with me in some way after all.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know, Skaaran. Kyber crystals are most suited to concentrate large amounts of energy, they’re pretty tough too, I don’t see any downsides to using one as a body. A shell.”

“A shell alone won’t make it indestructible. I need something powerful to fill it with, something with a deep connection to the Force.”

Renee hummed in concentration. The topic seemed to have cast a spell over her, and Skaaran thought that her usually glum face had rarely ever looked so alive.

Then she suddenly gasped, almost making Skaaran drop the fork he was holding.

“The local Jedi order!”

Skaaran sneered.

“What about them?”

“I know from a reliable source that they’re going to move.”

“You talked to someone? I can’t even remember when you last left the house.”

“Ora Singh told me. The Twi’lek girl that lives down the forest road. The Jedi plan to change headquarters, build a new temple somewhere in the Unknown Regions. It seems someone has found a planet that’s _well-resourced,_ and whatever that means for them I’m sure it could be interesting for you as well.”

Of course. _Of course._ This was the lucky twist of fate Skaaran had been waiting for.

His homeworld wasn’t largely populated to begin with, counting only about one hundred thousand souls - if Skaaran would be forced to do things that would need to be concealed, there wouldn’t be too many mouths he’d have to silence.

He wanted to jump out of his chair and kiss Renee, but since he knew she had little interest in this kind of bodily affection he confined himself to give her reluctant hands a gentle squeeze.

“I’ll make sure they take me with them. They respect my knowledge.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Sure they do.”

 

***

  

“There’s going to be a lot for you to study”, Jakar Landala said, shutting another transport box with a click and throwing it into the cargo hold of the shuttle.

He was human like Renee and twice Skaaran’s age, but since Skaaran was taller than most beings no one would have been able to tell. Skaaran was absent-mindedly staring at the dark skin of Jakar’s clean shaven head, which was slowly starting to reflect the sunlight as the strain of lifting heavy cargo made tiny beads of sweat form on it.

Jakar was a lot more tolerable than anyone Skaaran had ever met, he was very skilled, and if he hadn’t chosen to dress in hideous Jedi rags Skaaran thinks they might have gotten along one day.   

“I really appreciate your efforts to advocate for me, Jakar”, Skaaran said, trying his best to make it sound earnest, “Thank you.”

Waving Skaaran’s gratitude away and shrugging humbly - _like a true Jedi,_ Skaaran thought grudgingly - Jakar just smiled and lifted the next supply box with a quiet grunt.

“No one knows more about the Force than you do. It would be a _crime_ not to take you with us. I bet you have a lot of great ideas when it comes to designing and constructing the temple, don’t you?”

“I might have thought of one thing or another.”

“See? We can use a visionary on our team.”

Jakar had a way of wrapping people around his finger, with his charming, white-toothed smile and his glistening brown eyes, and in Skaaran’s opinion he didn’t fit into this club of old, stuck-up people. Then again, Skaaran couldn’t care less about Jakar’s choices. In the end, none of it would matter.

 _Careful,_ a voice in Skaaran’s head instructed, _remember to shield your thoughts._

“Please, I wouldn’t call myself a visionary. _Genius_ would be my preferred word choice.”

Jakar’s ringing laughter ignited a small spark in Skaaran’s chest, one he hadn’t felt in weeks, and before he could help it he was laughing along with him.  

The sun was setting slowly, drenching the sky in a tenderly pink hue. Skaaran felt it in his bones: what he’d been looking for would be waiting for him on this new planet, and his plan would be successful.

It was guilt that was driving Jakar and the rest of his pathetic friends, Skaaran didn’t need Force-sensitivity to be able to tell. They felt guilty about letting Skaaran live the life of an outcast, all alone in his hut far away from the rest of their happy little community. They felt they’d neglected their responsibility to integrate him, to care for him and Renee, and now they took Skaaran with them on their adventurous journey to make him believe he’s needed. Maybe they feared he’d get mischievous _ideas_ if they left him behind.

It was a pity that these ideas of Skaaran’s they seemed to fear so much were long past being ideas - Skaaran would start his journey to their well-resourced planet with a full grown _plan._     

Roughly a hundred people would be traveling with them, thirty of which were Jedi and the rest being a variety of voluntary helpers. Roughly a hundred people would know the planet’s coordinates - the number tumbled around in Skaaran’s head. It wasn’t a large number.

“You have a kind soul, Skaaran. I’m glad you were finally courageous enough to approach us - just imagine the things we’re going to learn, how intensely we’ll expand our minds, how much better we’ll be able to understand the world we live in. I think we’re going to have a great time.”

 _Yes we are,_ Skaaran thought as his smile grew broader.

 

***

 

A tiny but irritating ray of sunlight blinded Skaaran’s right eye through a crack in the wall of his hut, causing him to misspell _insufficient._ Cursing silently, he dipped his feather into the pot of black ink next to him and canceled the incorrect word with one, even line. The only sound in the room was the feather scratching across the parchment as Skaaran continued to write more hastily - the days here were short, and he preferred writing at daytime.

The wooden huts he and the Jedi had built were, of course, only interim accommodations until the temple was furnished enough to be inhabited, however they had turned out to be the perfect place for Skaaran to live and work in. On his request, he was allowed to build his own hut a considerable distance away from the others - he’d claimed to have gotten used to the solitude and to shun too much social interaction. He’d explained that the noise would make his concentration suffer, and nobody had questioned it.

It was the third week on this planet and while fortunately no one had become suspicious yet, his progress wasn’t particularly notable.

Skaaran had to spend the greater part of each day helping with the construction of the temple, which allowed him to work on his experiments only one to two hours a day. Sometimes he reverted to experimenting at night, but his results then usually prove to be less reliable.

He’d made a habit of making test protocols, feeling like that would facilitate recognizing patterns or mistakes. He also wrote down anything out of the ordinary, and sometimes he used the little blank book he’d brought with him to write down thought processes he dreaded to forget about otherwise. Today, for example, he had caused a minor explosion by heating a few venomously green berries he’d found in the forest, and yesterday he’d dissected a cropgold plant he’d stolen from the Jedi’s reserves. When Skaaran had heard that they had found an entire field overgrown with it, his heart had missed a beat - he couldn’t have hoped for a better plant to potentially become part of the transmitter he was creating.

Skaaran could only guess what other powerful ingredients this planet was hiding - he knew there were supposedly three Kyber crystal caves, and fierce beasts were rumored to lurk somewhere in this planet’s shadows. There was hardly anything that could add more protection and strength to the transmitter than the blood of a mighty animal that lived in tune with the Force.

The best part was probably the fact that countless rivers seemed to run through the planet, and half of them were said to contain pura-water. It would be easy to fetch it - in fact, Skaaran wouldn’t have much trouble retrieving _any_ of the ingredients he’d set his mind to, with the exception of the beast he’d have to kill.

His lack of time was the only aspect that could dim his joy over being on this planet. It would take long before he could actually use the transmitter for the first time, and Skaaran could only hope it wouldn’t take _too_ long. If someone were to discover his scheming, his dream of Force-sensitivity would always remain just that - a dream.

His handwriting got messier and the lines and arcs of the cursive letters in front of his eyes started swimming. Skaaran was tired, but he would have to get used to it.

 

***

 

_Entry #113_

_Approx. 0900_

_My third month on planet is drawing to a close. In today’s entry I am finally able to note that I have successfully acquired every single ingredient needed, save for one. Last night I managed to locate the Fairlights, which means that I’ll set out this evening to attempt an extraction of matter. People before me have attempted the very same thing, and none of them maintained their previous mental health - to say I’m nervous would be an insolent understatement. But I survived the extraction of blood from the Mantessan panthac, and I did so without visible injuries, so I’ll survive those creatures as well. My gut feeling tells me my goal will soon be reached, and I have to trust that feeling. In case of failure and memory loss, I’m planning to write down my personal data and my plans on a separate parchment for my future self. I hope it won’t ever have to serve its purpose._

_SB_

 

***

 

_Entry #114_

_Approx. 0800_

_I did it. I have trouble writing since my hands won’t stop trembling, but I believe that my feelings after this experience are worth writing down. A very short moment of contact with the matter was unavoidable, and I thought it would kill me or wipe my memory, but it didn’t. It was painful and I feel like my body has changed, but I endured it. And something incredible happened. My mind_ was _modified, and I just know that some things were taken from it, but it’s like the Fairlight I caught only took the knowledge that wasn’t worth keeping anyway. My mind was cleared, not robbed. I’ve never been so sure of how to proceed before. I know how the ingredients must be combined and I suddenly see the mistakes I’ve been making in my calculations. I can’t say for sure how long the construction will take from now, but it can’t be much longer. Now that my eyes have been opened, I can access my full potential._

_SB_

 

***

 

_Entry #177_

_Approx. 0900_

_Tonight after my shift at the temple ends I am going to do some last fine-tuning, and tomorrow will be the day I use the transmitter for the first time. I plan to perform the first extraction on the rat I caught, since my focus must first lie on the aspect of extracting life force before I can find a way to acquire the Force-sensitivity as well. I figured out that the life force - henceforth referred to as the soul - of a being will have to be stored within the transmitter, while the being’s abilities must be transferred to me. In conclusion there will have to be two separate extraction processes running simultaneously while the transmitter is in use. I tried coding it, installed what could be called password activation to reduce the number of people that are able to use it, yet I can’t say for sure if the mechanism works the way I intended. A two-step procedure is now necessary to activate and use the transmitter, and only I know what it entails. The traces I leave mustn’t be too conspicuous. Some of the council members have started looking at me with suspicion in their eyes, and I believe they’ve started distrusting me. I have to be careful now, and above all I have to hurry._

_SB_

 

***

 

_Entry #178_

_Approx. 2100_

_The experiment failed. The transmitter worked for a short while, which is a slight consolation, yet the rat was still alive after the extraction was completed. I felt that my body was soaking up some of its soul, felt my vitality increasing just a little, and it could very well be called a minor success - yet it’s by far not enough. If I intend to absorb Force-powers, if my end goal is draining a being bigger than a rat, everything must work perfectly, and that includes draining the donor entirely. Not to mention that the death of the donor plays a vital part in keeping the transmitter a secret - no one can live to tell the tale of my glorious invention._

_SB_

 

***

 

_Entry #195_

_Approx. 2000_

_Experiment 21 succeeded. Tomorrow I’ll finally be able to operate in larger dimensions._

_SB_

 

***

 

“We know you can handle yourself. It’s just - you look a little worn out, my friend. Everybody is worrying about you.”

The concern in Jakar Landala’s voice was genuine, Skaaran could tell. Perhaps they really were worried about him. Perhaps some of the cleverer Jedi were just worried about themselves, sensing that Skaaran was plotting something.

“I’m sorry you are”, Skaaran said flatly.

Jakar would be the first person to visit his hut. In all the months Skaaran had lived and experimented there, no one had bothered to check on him, which he hadn’t minded in the slightest, of course. But Jakar seemed to notice the same thing and his familiar guilt-ridden silence flooded Skaaran’s heart with joy.

It would be Jakar’s first and hopefully last visit.

“I can’t believe you found a solution to the calcite problem. We’ve been racking our brains over how to best mix it for days now”, Jakar changed the topic, seemingly unaware of how his strides were suddenly quickening, “If it’s good - which I don’t doubt - you should present it to the council.”

“Hmm”, Skaaran agreed absent-mindedly, suddenly aware of how dangerous his undertaking actually was.

Jakar had been his choice because he was the most skilled, but that of course would also be Skaaran’s biggest risk.

Yet Jakar’s greatest weakness would outweigh it, Skaaran reassured himself - Jakar’s blind trust in Skaaran would make his level of skill inconsequential.  

“The temple really is incredible, don’t you think? And it’s going to be a lot more --”

“Here we are.”

There was no need for Skaaran to pretend he was interested in Jakar’s pointless chatter. The moment of truth was about to come, and Skaaran was anxious. He couldn’t tell what the transfer would do to his body or mind, yet it was too late for doubts or fear now.

Jakar was still bewildered at being cut short and Skaaran took advantage of his silence.

“Shall we go inside? I found some new herbs to make absolutely splendid tea from, I’ll make you a cup if you like.”

“That would be lovely”, Jakar replied, but the joy was gone from his voice.

 _He must sense it,_ Skaaran thought, _or he’s even worse of a Jedi than I thought._

The wooden door opened with a creak as Skaaran held it open for Jakar to step inside.

It wasn’t a very well lighted room to begin with, but after the door closed it was nearly too dark to see. While Skaaran had naturally gotten used to it, Jakar was visibly struggling with the darkness.

“Now, tell me what’s going on”, Jakar began, obviously trying to cover up his nervousness, “Something is obviously bothering you. You know, if you require our help you need only ask.”

Skaaran turned around slowly to regard the man that was now squinting in concentration, the man that despite every warning sign still genuinely worried about Skaaran’s wellbeing. What Skaaran felt for him could almost be described as pity.

“I have a better idea”, Skaaran said in return, his darkening gaze hidden from Jakar’s eyes, “I simply _take_ what I need.”

Then, everything happened so quickly that there was no time for Jakar to reply, or take one last breath, or even _blink_ \- Skaaran pulled out the transmitter in his pocket, illuminating the hut with its green glow. He closed his eyes and continued to produce a clear picture of Jakar’s face in his mind.

“Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill”, he spoke so hastily that the five words sounded like one.

When two seconds passed and nothing happened, Skaaran felt fear blooming within him. If he failed now, it would all have been for nothing.

But after the third second, Skaaran realized that the transmitter was already doing its work. Jakar before him had stiffened, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, motionless like the complacent Jedi statue he had helped build in the entrance hall of the temple. The transmitter in Skaaran’s cold hand was vibrating, the movements infecting his whole body with their high frequency.

The extraction finalized much quicker than Skaaran had assumed - at first the procedure didn’t much deviate from that of the rat experiment. Jakar grew gradually weaker while Skaaran grew gradually stronger. Jakar sunk to the ground while Skaaran’s stance became more upright.

Jakar died while Skaaran began his new life.

Just as expected, Jakar’s soul crept into the transmitter - its new home - taking shape in the form of a thin, white thread of smoke. Subsequently, the transmitter transformed and moderated the raw soul so it could be distributed painlessly in Skaaran’s body. Skaaran quickly considered storing Jakar’s soul, but decided he would absorb it right then and there. He would need the strength for the execution of his remaining plan.

Then, the really interesting part of the extraction began - the transfer of Jakar’s midi-chlorians and his cell’s ability to develop a sensitivity towards them.

Only fate knew what price Skaaran would have to pay to make it work. He closed his eyes again, bracing himself for experiencing agonizing pain, mental torture or looking his worst enemy, _death,_ in the eye.      

As it turned out, Skaaran had been prepared for everything except for what actually happened: The entire procedure was completely, laughably uneventful.

There was no pain, no alterations to his brain when Jakar’s powers entered Skaaran’s body. There wasn’t even a visible manifestation of them like the one the soul had showed. It all proceeded impeccably and without notable evidence. The only indication that anything was happening at all were the vibrations of the transmitter in Skaaran’s hand, and of course the feeling of gaining strength in a new, alien way.

And that was how Skaaran went from a Force-insensitive, physically weak being to a Force-user with the abilities of a fully trained Jedi in a matter of seconds.

It took a while for him to fully grasp the fact that he had succeeded. For a few moments, Skaaran continued to stand in the middle of his dark hut, staring at the dead body blending in with the murky floor beneath it.

What Skaaran did next happened as automatically as taking a breath would. His free hand rose up into the air while he concentrated his new power on Jakar’s body, focused his entire attention on it, and then Skaaran watched the dark lump rise into the air.

Skaaran let Jakar hover a few feet above the ground, considered the floating body that looked like an object rather than an actual deceased person, and understood that it was _him_ who was levitating and turning it like a bizarre exhibition piece. That realization made Skaaran leave the body crashing back to the ground while pure _joy_ flooded his heart.

He rushed outside, the grin on his face broad, wild and unrestrained - he could have _yelled_ with relief but reverted to acting out his joy in silence, staring at the transmitter with an almost loving expression.

To make sure he wasn’t dreaming, Skaaran channeled the Force once again, this time planning it to break out more violently. His hand swung through the air in a rapid, controlled push, and the tree a short distance away from Skaaran was thrown backwards by an invisible blast wave, cracking in half and hitting the leaf-strewn ground noisily.

It was beyond Skaaran’s comprehension how he even _lived_ being aware of only himself and what he saw _._ Now, with the Force, he believed to feel everything. He could feel every tree around him, every leaf, every worm squirming in the mud if he concentrated hard enough. The connection he had read so much about had already been intriguing in theory, but to have it running through him was a sensation that no one could ever put into words adequately.  

Skaaran couldn’t remember ever having been so shamelessly happy.

 

***

 

_Entry #198_

_The next steps of my plan must be executed immediately. I must seek out allies from those I consider my enemies. I had my first vision an hour ago, and it singled out the right people for me to contact. They harbor a secret interest in the dark side and all the things they are forbidden to learn about - if I show them my invention, my power and what it’s yet to grow into, my vision of a balanced galaxy free of Jedi and Sith, they won’t hesitate to join me. The voluntary helpers have left the planet. There are just a few more souls separating me from beginning my journey._

_SB_

 

***

 

The grim, almost saturnine looks of the council members rested heavily on Skaaran from all around him. The sun was shining through the openings in the surface of the mountain, partly illuminating the circle of chairs, the people sitting in them and Skaaran himself.

One beam of light fell exactly into the middle of the circle and on Skaaran, making him feel like he was a performer in the spotlight, waiting for his show to begin. In a way that was true, but the council would disagree - to them, this was an interrogation, the conviction of a culprit.

“So you admit to having participated in the murder of two council members, Jakar Landala and Shivas Bastra?”

“As I said”, Skaaran replied with impatient dryness, feeling the eyes around him growing sterner, “they sacrificed themselves for the greater good. They knew that my ideas would revolutionize the galaxy and longed for a future free of dispute as much as I.”

“You’re saying they consented to being killed by your hand because they believed you’d make the galaxy a better place?”

“I believe that’s what I just said, yes.”

Skaaran found it hard not to roll his eyes. All of this was a waste of time.

The female Cerean interrogating him went by the name of Li-Sovi Corr and was known to be one of the more rigorous Jedi. The council didn’t officially have a leader, but Corr certainly came closest to being one. She had a face that gave nothing away if she wished it so and she was very rarely seen smiling or participating in small talk. Skaaran would have loved to win her to his side, yet he hadn’t dared trying - he knew that she was devoted to the light side with her whole being and it would have been too great a risk. She hadn’t appeared in his vision either, so there was only one way for her story to end.

“Watch your tongue”, Corr said with cutting eyes but monotone voice, “The dead bodies did not display any signs of external forceful impact. No internal injuries, no toxins, asphyxiation precluded. How did you kill them?”

Knowing everyone around him was expecting him to come up with a cheap lie, Skaaran started meeting Corr’s unrelentingly accusatory gaze with a pleased grin.

“I developed a device that allows me to absorb a being’s life force and abilities.”

Skaaran used the stunned silence of the circle to fetch the transmitter from his pocket.

“Would you like a demonstration?”

Before anyone, including Li-Sovi Corr, had even processed what Skaaran had just said, the transmitter started vibrating.

“Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill”, Skaaran spoke calmly, waiting for someone to interrupt him, yell at him or throw him to the ground.

Yet every brave attendant of the interrogation remained glued to their chair as the white string of smoke wandered from Corr’s chest into Skaaran’s hand. Shock was a convenient factor that Skaaran would use to his advantage many, many more times.

It was only when Corr’s limp body sunk to the stone ground with a dull thud that Skaaran heard the first objection.

“No! You traitorous rat!”, a voice behind Skaaran screamed, but no one had attacked him yet.

Skaaran knew exactly why.

“This must be a lot for all of you to take in. The fact that you’ve been blind to so many possibilities. I’ll make this quick, honored council”, Skaaran declared, turning on the spot so he could look into every face that was observing him.

“Me and my allies plan to explore the Force _beyond_ what the light side has to offer. We plan to rid the galaxy of outdated concepts such as the Jedi or the Sith religions. I am the living example that there are countless possible things to learn about the Force - like the fact that it can be transferred. That Force-sensitivity can be created artificially. I’ll allow you to choose between two options now: come along with us on our journey to omniscience, or die.”

For a few seconds, it was completely silent. Skaaran couldn’t even hear them breathing.

 _“Our_ journey? Where are your supposed allies, Skaaran?”, the same petulant voice from before called out.

When Skaaran looked at the insolent man, he realized he didn’t know his name. Which was only logical, because his name had never had and will never have any relevance.

“I take it you refuse to accept my gracious offer. Your foolish pride has always been your greatest flaw, Jedi.”

With that, Skaaran’s knights rose from their seats.

There were ten of them, one third of the council. They were less in number, but they had the element of surprise on their side. Skaaran had made sure they’d sit in between the Jedi, evenly distributed.

As expected, the fight didn’t take too long - a few Jedi had survived the first attack and managed to fight back, unnecessarily delaying their inevitable deaths.

In the middle of the raging battle, the screams and the deep hum of multiple lightsabers, Skaaran closed his eyes and smiled. His grip on the transmitter tightened - he’d have to hurry if he wanted to initiate a few more extractions. The midi-chlorians within the cells would live only a few minutes longer before they would be as useless for Skaaran as their dead hosts.

Soon enough it fell completely quiet around Skaaran, which was his sign to open his eyes and start collecting what could still be collected. Out of his ten knights, seven had survived; the council lay scattered across the floor and the chairs like distasteful decor.

“Well done, my knights”, Skaaran addressed the beings looking at him in anticipation, the lust to kill still bright in their eyes, “great times lie ahead. Leave me to feed the transmitter and myself in peace and prepare the ship. We shall set out two days from now.”

Nobody disagreed. Nobody complained. Everyone nodded silently and began leaving the conference chamber they had turned into a tomb.

Skaaran managed to save six more souls and left the worthless rest to the vermin.

That night, he went back to his hut one last time, pleased with the fact that he should never have to return to it again.

 

***

 

The transport box made the unsound floorboards of Skaaran’s hut creak as he threw it there carelessly. He was glad to not have many belongings that would need to be stored - the faster he gathered his things, the faster he’d be able to leave this place. It had done much for him, but now it had nothing left to give.

Even though Skaaran didn’t possess much, his hut had always been messy and was messy now. His desk was the most neglected, covered with parchment rolls, ink, quills and other materials to the point of hiding the piece of furniture beneath entirely.

Skaaran went over to the desk hastily and picked up his journal. In his haste he knocked over the pot of dark ink, spilling the substance all over the carpet of parchments scattered across the desk. He didn’t mind this mishap much - the most important notes were stowed away safely within the journal in his hands. It felt light, which was odd in Skaaran’s opinion. It was filled with important ideas, with emotions and results so heavy they should somehow lend this little book more weight.

He was throwing it into his box when the unforeseen happened.

A feeling started demanding Skaaran’s attention - a warning signal. Someone was sneaking around outside Skaaran’s hut, someone who was trembling with excitement and simultaneously worry, someone who was looking for Skaaran. Someone whose presence Skaaran didn’t recognize.

None of his visions had shown him this person, and still Skaaran felt deep within him that what was about to happen would be somehow of importance.

Skaaran was beyond fretting about things he didn’t see coming - his trust in his new abilities was too strong to leave any space for worry or fear. He fumbled for the transmitter in his pocket and stepped outside.

Before him stood, wide-eyed and gaping, a lanky, human woman. She was so scrawny that Skaaran could see some of her ribs through her loose shirt. Her hair was dark and straight, her eyes a mousy gray.

She was the plainest woman Skaaran had ever seen.

When the coin dropped and she seemed to realize she found whom she’d been looking for, her face lit up visibly and tears welled up in her dull eyes.

“Skaaran!”, she exclaimed and started approaching him without further ado.

“I’m so glad I found you! I met some of the others, I was beside myself with joy when I heard you succeeded with the transmitter! How have you been doing, my dear? Are you well?”

Skaaran’s mind began racing. She spoke to him with so much familiarity and fondness - she suddenly didn’t look so plain anymore, now that her thin lips had stretched into a genuine, relieved smile.

Skaaran didn’t return the expression. He eyed her suspiciously, refrained from searching her thoughts for clues.

“Who are you?”

That one question was all it took to wipe the softness off the woman’s face as though it had never been there. Now there was only irritation left, bewilderment.

“Please don’t -- You know I don’t like it when you play me for a fool. You look like you haven’t slept in months, are you okay? You look so worn out that I would even let you hug me.”

Skaaran wasn’t sure whether that last statement was supposed to be a joke, but he knew for sure that this woman was playing some kind of trick on him. Her feelings for him were strong and earnest, yet that didn’t diminish Skaaran’s distrust.

“I’m afraid we’ve never met. And quite frankly, I am rather determined to not waste more time than necessary, so I hope you understand that this conversation is over now.”

Now, the woman looked positively dumbstruck. Skaaran felt her sudden anger, her indignation, her joy that was unexpectedly turned into sorrow.

“Skaaran _what_ are you talking about? I haven’t seen you in months and you’re giving me this- this--”

“I don’t know how you learned about the transmitter - I guess whoever told you will have to pay for it later - but that knowledge leaves me with no other option than terminating you. I’m sure you understand.”

“No. Skaaran, _no, please!_ What has gotten _into_ you?”, the woman now practically shrieked, her despair not reaching through Skaaran’s wall of indifference.

Skaaran focused on her face distorted with rage, spoke the words as calmly as usual, watched the life leave her and flow into the transmitter. There was no time to listen to her wailing, and her identity couldn’t be important enough to mess up Skaaran’s schedule.

However, the strange curiosity about her that had gripped Skaaran didn’t let go of him even after he had left her wispy body and returned to his hut - she had known about the transmitter and Skaaran felt that none of his knights had informed her about it. She had obviously believed she knew Skaaran well.

It wasn’t actually of importance who she was and why she’d come, but for some reason Skaaran couldn’t just put the topic aside and continue preparing his journey. The memories Skaaran tried to access felt just within reach and unattainable at the same time - when he pictured her face, it felt like a _name_ was right at the tip of Skaaran’s tongue. The letter R was floating around in Skaaran’s head - R-- Ren?

A flash of genius seared through him then. He remembered the note he wrote before he began the Fairlight extraction, the parchment he filled with facts about himself and his plans in case of memory loss. He hadn’t read it ever again after writing it, despite feeling like his mind had been altered back then - he had simply relied on his instinct that every memory taken from him had been good riddance.

Skaaran could take a look at it now to see if he’d mentioned a woman like her, whether she had ever played a significant role in his life.

He rushed over to the desk once more and sent half of the parchments flying to the floor in his search for the one page.

When he found it he skimmed it feverishly, genuinely wondering whether he’d find something.

Skaaran read the page twice. He had written a lot about what he was experimenting with, his aspirations and ideas of an ideal galaxy - but not a word about a woman.

His eyes flicked back to the first sentence several times. _Your name is Skaaran Brooke,_ it read. Skaaran fortunately hadn’t forgotten his name after the extraction, but still he couldn’t take his eyes off that first sentence.

The ink he had spilt when he had knocked over the inkwell was splattered all over it, covering the middle five letters of his first name and the first three letters of his last name.

The longer he looked at the spots and the strangely expressive new word they had created - _Snoke_ \- the more he was convinced that there was meaning to it.

Perhaps a new era called for a new name.

 

***

 

The sun was setting on Coruscant, bringing an end to an overall beautiful, uneventful day. A mild breeze tugged at Snoke’s garments as he oversaw the pulsating city below from the balcony of his temporary flat.

It was on evenings like this, in moments of absolute, undisturbed peace, that Snoke would involuntarily think about Ren. Even one hundred and ninety six years after the woman had shown up at his hut, Snoke couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had he let her live. It made him furious, this weakness, this inability to let go - he had even named his knights after her, without having any certainty that _Ren_ had even been her real name.

Thinking of his knights made him equally sentimental. Snoke was aware that he would have to seek out new allies sooner or later - after all old age had gotten the better of them long ago now. _About a hundred years ago,_ an impatient voice in Snoke’s head observed, and Snoke sighed. He didn’t feel any desire to search for replacements, mostly because he was almost entirely sure that he’d be strong enough on his own, but also because he didn’t think that he’d ever find servants as flawlessly obedient as his old knights. Snoke had even considered letting them have some of the transmitter’s energy, but eventually couldn’t bring himself to share it.

The flat Snoke was living in was sordid and simple. He inhabited it not because he couldn’t afford living in a luxurious home - after all, he was the only being left that knew the coordinates of a planet covered in valuable resources - he lived there because he didn’t want to draw any attention on himself. At least, not yet.

His mission to rid the galaxy of Jedi and Sith would have to wait until Snoke was either powerful enough to be indestructible or managed to gather his own army - and both of these options seemed farther away the longer Snoke thought about it. If he was being completely honest with himself, that aspiration in particular had become somewhat secondary over the years.

The pivotal point of his life was, without doubt, the transmitter.

Using it had become as natural to Snoke as drinking tea in the morning, just like the Force-abilities he had trained and perfected over the years. He’d lost count of the souls he absorbed after his five hundred and fifty-third victim had died. He preferred terminating powerful Force-users, but he didn’t always have a choice.

Snoke was working towards an eternal life, and he knew he wasn’t the only one. There were others experimenting with immortality. However, they’d never truly understand what Snoke had understood long ago - keeping your powers within yourself, even teaching them to others, will get you nowhere as long as you’re trapped in the cage that is your mortal body. Your power needs to be put into something _indestructible_ that stores it away safely for you.

This day, Snoke thought as his eyes followed a group of loudly cheering adolescents crossing the street beneath his balcony, had really been the best one in a while. The fact that he hadn’t taken a single soul in nearly twenty four hours had left Snoke tense and mildly craving all day, and still he’d say that he felt more peaceful than ever.

It was due to the underlying feeling that he’d reached the peak of his vitality. The way to ultimate power may still be a tedious one, yet Snoke’s body was in an optimal condition. Even the sleep-deprivation and the little appetite could not debilitate him. The transmitter had given him everything he’d hoped for and more. Snoke felt it, had even seen it in a vision - today his life would change, and he knew that this nervous energy that had been surrounding him for a while had something to do with it.

Even the transmitter seemed to be feeling that change was in the air. While it used to vibrate exclusively during utilization before, it had started doing it randomly within the past few days. Sometimes Snoke would feel it moving in his pocket like it was trying to communicate - which was, of course, absurd. But still Snoke knew that something big was waiting just around the corner, and the transmitter knew it, too.

Snoke gave a slight jolt when a knock on his door ripped him out of his thoughts.

He reached out with his mind and saw that it was the boy from next door, intending to greet his new neighbor and see whether he was any more bearable than the family that lived here before.

The transmitter started fluttering wildly and Snoke closed his hand around it. The boy lived alone and it would take weeks, if not months for anyone to notice his absence; the combination of sudden fatigue and the desperate need for a rush of energy caused Snoke to make a decision.

The confident smile the boy had worn all afternoon vanished when Snoke opened the door to his apartment. Snoke was used to having this effect on people - turning their mirth into discomfort by simply looking at them. Yet he knew that it was neither his intimidating height nor his small, knowing eyes that made businessmen switch sidewalks, infants cry and elders shut their curtains when he showed up; It was the aura of power and death they instinctively felt emanating from one of his pockets.

“Hello, Sir, I’m - I’m from next door, and -- I’m sorry, I see I’m obviously inconveniencing you, I can come back later-”

Snoke waited for his strident voice to die down, then smiled at the boy, shook his head slowly.

 _“Inconveniencing me?_ My boy, I’ve been waiting for a little distraction all day. Please, come in!”

The boy gulped as the door clicked shut behind him. His parents had taught him not to be impolite, and in Snoke’s opinion they had done a marvelous job at it.

“It’s really not my intention to disturb you, I just thought I’d come over and say hello.”

Already tired of this whole situation, Snoke closed his eyes. He’d thought to last a little longer this time, but the sight of this entirely unsuspecting child in a man’s body was simply not worth wasting Snoke’s time.

“But in the contrary! In fact, the time you chose for your very civilized visit is utterly perfect.”

The extraction was quick, easy, almost boring, and Snoke hadn’t expected it to be any different - this wasn’t a very complicated matter after all, merely a routinely energy boost. As always, Snoke received one last irritated look after pronouncing the letters. As always, the string of smoke flowed towards the transmitter like a subdued snake while the boy sunk to his knees, vision most likely fading. Snoke waited patiently, his mind already occupied with thoughts about how to best spend the following day.

His arrogant carelessness was the reason he didn’t immediately realize that something was amiss.

Had he paid proper attention and not blindly trusted in routine, he would have felt that the boy’s soul didn’t wander into his body, but instead remained stored within the transmitter. He would have spotted the unusual delay, and he would have felt that the transmitter had not, as he assumed, fallen silent, but was vibrating at a frequency that was almost too high to be palpable.

Just the slightest bit more wariness would have alerted him in time, would have made him drop the transmitter before it could turn so cold it ate its way into the skin of Snoke’s palm, causing an ice burn that would never fully heal.

But Snoke was too sure of himself to prevent any of it.

A wail ripped through the muggy air of Snoke’s apartment as the pain finally caught his attention, hot, searing and nearly unbearable. His last attempts to form a clear thought and analyze the situation were smothered by the tormenting sensation crawling up Snoke’s arm, into his chest, his head, his stomach, his legs. Desperately he tried to unclench his fist to let go of the source of his pain, yet his body wouldn’t obey his commands.

The anguish was one of a kind, incomparable to any sort of pain Snoke had ever felt. If he hadn’t known exactly that it was impossible, he would have believed his body to be on fire, inside and out.

The worst aspect of this pain was not, however, its intensity - it was the fact that Snoke couldn’t find a single spot within him that wasn’t tormented by it. It was everywhere. Ubiquitous.

It lasted for what felt like hours - it seemed to corrode each of Snoke’s cells, twisted his insides, heated up his skin from within until it felt like it was liquefying. Snoke’s panic was taken to a new level when he felt the left side of his face sagging. His breath was taken away by the burning in and around his throat.

Snoke’s whole body seemed to be contracting forcefully, as though there was a black hole within him trying to swallow him from inside. The tormenting pressure on Snoke’s head culminated in a loud _crack,_ taking away the last bits of his crumbling self-restraint. He screamed until his lungs threatened to burst and stopped only when his vocal cords wore so thin they couldn’t produce any more sounds.

The moment the pain finally stopped, Snoke still hadn’t lost consciousness. He was laying on the filthy carpet of his living room, wide awake, wishing he were dead.

It took awhile for him to gather enough strength to get up, but to his own surprise it worked, if under absolute strain and on wildly shaking legs.  

For reasons that were beyond his own comprehension, Snoke’s first impulse was to limp over to his full-length mirror and take a look in it. He feared the image he would encounter, yet his unsteady steps didn’t falter once.

The sight of his own reflection made his stomach turn. Not a single inch of his face looked the way it had before - his skin that had been rosy before had turned ashen, was now wrinkly and clinging to his skull like a leathery cloth. His clear blue eyes were sunken in and framed by crimson lids. The left half of his face had not only felt like it had sagged - it looked like it had run down on him like wet paint on a wall. The skin beneath Snoke’s cheekbone had been sucked into his mouth cavity, leaving a deep but closed hole.

Purple bruises were scattered across his cheeks and his neck, which further highlighted the parts where his skin had become so thin and loose that each and every muscle around Snoke’s throat was now clearly perceptible - thick cords connected Snoke’s head to his shoulders beneath his now almost translucent skin, creating the impression of a wiry, old tree.  

The most nauseating part was the deep crack in Snoke’s bald head - it looked like someone had split his skull in two with an axe, and like the wound had already had some time to heal. The fact that every fresh wound looked like they were _old_ wounds was just another thing Snoke didn’t have an explanation for.

The analysis of his physical condition left Snoke wondering how he was even still alive.

He’d never much cared about his appearance, this wasn’t about vanity - the state the transmitter had left Snoke in was critical and it would take _long_ for him to recover from it. It was a state that had no logical explanation, a state that didn’t allow him to go to a medcenter.

Yet that shouldn’t remain his only problem. A frail, high-pitched sound of despair escaped Snoke right before he first noticed the _true_ catastrophe.

Snoke sank to his knees again and mustered up what remained of his broken voice to utter an anguished, miserable cry, and it was neither physical pain nor his mirror image that moved him to do so.

It was the sight of his empty hands.

 

***

 

Snoke had to wait centuries for the Ubiquitum to return.

He had given it that name one night when the ache in his heart had kept him up - his connection to and longing for it made it seem cold to keep calling it _transmitter._

Every now and then Snoke wondered whether it had really been _centuries_ since its vanishment - he was exclusively running on reserves after all - but his mind kept telling him that he’d been waiting for more than six hundred years to be reunited with the stone that could now be called an artifact.

Not a day had passed that Snoke hadn’t come up with places the Ubiquitum could be in, or what witless person might have found it. Sometimes, Snoke had even wondered whether it still _existed,_ but could never bring himself to think about that option for too long.

It had taken years to recover from its disappearance to a certain degree, physically as well as emotionally - despite Snoke’s extraordinary healing skills, his regeneration could _still_ not be called completed. Most of the inner wounds had been beyond repair, which also applied to the greater part of his appearance.

The only real solace Snoke could always revert to was the fact that all the Force-abilities he’d acquired were still his and fully intact. At first he’d thought to have lost them too, yet it had turned out he’d simply been too weak to access them.

The life Snoke now led was that of an expatriate, a wanderer - after he’d left Coruscant he’d never stayed in one place for longer than three weeks, even if his bones had felt like they were made of glass and traveling aggravated his condition. He’d constantly switched cities, then planets, always careful not to be caught by the wrong pair of eyes. He’d lived in many caves like the one he was living in now, sometimes in abandoned forest cabins or ruins.   

It was a life that no one but Snoke would have endured for longer than a few years.

And Snoke might have even taken his life out of despair had it not been for his resilient, indestructible belief that the Ubiquitum would return to him and his time would come.

He’d felt it, every day and with each fiber of his being, that he was destined to bring order to the galaxy by ruling it. No other being had accomplished what he had - no other being had his experience, his power, his wealth, and his iron will to get rid of old concepts. He had an insight into human nature that was second to none, he’d become a master of manipulation.

All he’d had to do was wait, and today the wait had finally paid off.

Snoke had meditated every day since the moment he’d gotten some of his strength back, always reaching out to the Ubiquitum but never finding it - and today, he’d caught a glimpse of it.

He’d seen it in the hands of a Mon Calamari, and the green glow had made Snoke’s chest ache. Venomous envy had made his blood boil even though he was usually above sentiments like these.

What made matters even worse was the fact that even if Snoke knew where to find the Ubiquitum, a feeling deep in his gut forbade him to go and fetch it.

Every vision he’d had recently had left this feeling, bright and alarming as a warning sign - the time for reunion hadn’t come yet.

And Snoke followed and trusted his visions more than anything or anyone else.

Every warning they had given him, every instruction, had eventually caused Snoke to make the wisest decisions.

When Snoke had craved the Ubiquitum so intensely he had been about to rashly set out and get it, a vision had reminded him that each of his rattling breaths could be his last, and Snoke had waited, recovered.

When Snoke had been at his weakest and had entertained the thought of ending his life, a vision had shown him that he would one day sit on the throne that ruled the galaxy, and Snoke had decided to stay alive.

When Snoke’s fury had threatened to consume him and he’d started making plans to eradicate all of the remaining Jedi, a vision had shown him that _war_ would be raging all over the galaxy, that what had become the Republic would fall again and would be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, and Snoke had known that all of his problems would be solved by the time he would begin his rise to power.

Snoke wouldn’t have to kill the entire Jedi order by himself - Order 66 would do it for him. In the years to come, Snoke would get back to health - at least to the extent possible - while war and conflict would pave his way.

The Empire too would be defeated and break apart, Snoke had seen it. After that, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

He would not only find a way back to the Ubiquitum and re-establish the Knights of Ren, he would also lead a vast army with absolute technological supremacy.

 _How_ he would accomplish all this was still unclear, but Snoke’s confidence in himself and his visions had brought him this far and would bring him even farther. His senses would not betray him.

The only continuous clue the visions had given Snoke was that the Skywalkers - a family line exceptionally gifted with the Force - would play a significant role in whatever plan he was yet to come up with.

And for reasons Snoke had not yet figured out entirely, the _Rule of Two_ had been circulating in his mind for some time now. As it was a Sith philosophy, Snoke had always deemed it nonsensical, however things had developed in a way that had left Snoke wondering whether an _apprentice_ could possibly be a back-up plan if something prevented him from reclaiming the Ubiquitum. Sure, Snoke was convinced it would work, yet he couldn’t deny that the Ubiquitum’s disappearance had been a misery he hadn’t seen coming.

Snoke could teach someone his unique ways, have them carry on his legacy. But first and foremost, Snoke could have them be his enforcer, have them slug out the fights he himself lacked the physical strength for.

Never had this concept held much appeal for Snoke, but now that he’d had centuries to clear his mind of most of his prejudices it seemed to be the wisest option. He could tailor his apprentice to his personal requirements, could make him his personalized weapon. Which meant that it couldn’t possibly be _anyone -_ if the creation of the Ubiquitum had taught Snoke one thing, it was that the finest sculptor cannot fashion a masterpiece from poor materials. He must have something pure, something strong, something unbreakable with which to work.

A Skywalker would most certainly meet these criteria.

Snoke would have a lot to ponder before he could start taking action. He’d have many more enlightening visions to guide him, and he’d keep observing the galaxy unwittingly bowing to his will a little longer from the safety of one of his hiding places.

 _The stars will align in my favor,_ Snoke thought as he lay down to get some sleep for the first time in seventy three hours, _and the galaxy shall pay for disregarding me._

 

***

 

About fifty years later, Snoke’s shuttle entered the atmosphere of the planet where everything began.   

Heavy rain complicated the landing, yet Snoke paid it no heed. He was occupied with following the trace he’d picked up two days ago.

His heart leapt joyfully at the thought of what was awaiting him - just like it was meant to be, the Ubiquitum had revealed itself to him again and had unsurprisingly returned to its birthplace.

Snoke had to hurry. He’d sensed that it wouldn’t linger for too long, that it would vanish again if Snoke didn’t reach it in time.

In the past years, every single one of Snoke’s predictions had come true. The Empire was no more, the New Republic had formed, the Jedi were eradicated and slowly but steadily becoming a myth, and the Ubiquitum had returned.  

Snoke’s body still ached with every step he took, but the immense power he wielded even without the Ubiquitum made him forget about that deficiency. After he’d find the right allies, his physical weakness wouldn’t matter.

His ship nearly crashed when a strong wind gust pushed it dangerously close to one of the mountains, yet Snoke prevented the accident in time. He landed the ship on a platform right behind the mountain that housed the temple.

When he exited the ship, he felt the presence he’d been longing for for ages immediately. Something tugged at his chest with such a firm familiarity that he almost toppled over.

Suddenly the unrelenting rain, the slipperiness of the wet slope he had to climb down and the countless steps he had to ascend within the temple to reach the council’s chamber didn’t pose much of a problem to Snoke anymore. The way that would have been strenuous for Snoke under different circumstances became subsidiary - he walked it with ease, the only worry on his mind being that the Ubiquitum would have left him again when he got to the chamber.

Relief surged through him when his eyes found it lying in the middle of the circle of chairs, surrounded by the bones of Snoke’s former enemies.

Snoke didn’t understand the feeling that flooded him then - his eyes started burning, the green glow of the Ubiquitum blurred, his throat tightened. He couldn’t recall having felt this way before, which is why he started panicking, if just slightly. He brought his jittery hand to his cheek, and when he removed it he found a droplet of clear liquid running down his index finger. It was a tear.

Too excited to be disgusted with himself, Snoke approached the Ubiquitum so rapidly it threatened to make him dizzy. The connection grew stronger with every step, and when Snoke finally touched it it felt like an electric shock was ripping through his entire body.

Snoke’s vision went black and his eyes rolled back into his head while the Ubiquitum spoke to him. He sifted through its memory and the Ubiquitum let him - it told him its lengthy story, and after it was done it shut him out again.

With a mixture of confusion, sorrow and anger, Snoke removed his hands from the cold stone.

Centuries of suffering and waiting, and the Ubiquitum still wasn’t his.

Snoke felt like wrecking the entire room, the whole temple if he could, but he knew his head needed to stay clear for the measures that would have to be taken.

With his last remaining energy, Snoke cast a powerful spell he’d absorbed from a Sith fanatic on the artifact to bind it to its place. The Force strung around the Ubiquitum like a net, making sure it would not dematerialize and flee again. Snoke had no use for it yet - it didn’t listen to him.

The list of beings it had seemingly randomly chosen to belong to in the past was long, none of them having managed to figure out how to use the Ubiquitum. However the number of times it had switched owners or its motivation to do so were inconsequential to Snoke. To him, all that mattered was why it had left _him_ and whom it belonged to _presently._

His first question had been answered quickly - the souls Snoke had forced the Ubiquitum to absorb had somehow allowed the artifact to develop a will of its own, a conscience Snoke hadn’t considered possible. This will made it virtually impossible for Snoke to make any safe predictions about its future behavior, which in turn meant that he had to somehow outwit it and its current owner.

This led him to his second question.

The boy that was now in the possession of Snoke’s most precious creation was barely seventeen years old, the son of a former Imperial that had spent most of his childhood on the run. The image of his pale face and his fiery red hair flashed up in front of Snoke’s inner eye. A child in a uniform, dreaming of bringing a new order to the galaxy just like Snoke always had.

There was no time for Snoke to waste. Before Snoke could get anywhere near Armitage Hux, he would have to plan his approach carefully - he couldn’t afford making any further mistakes.

Snoke tore his eyes off the Ubiquitum and left the chamber.

There was another matter that demanded his attention today, a matter that was of utmost importance. If he didn’t hurry, young Ben Solo would interpret his absence as a lack of interest and turn away from him.  

Snoke had been reaching out to Ben every night for seven years now, so he wouldn’t start making exceptions today.

 

***

 

“Excuse me?”

The face of the man in front of Snoke had turned scarlet with what was most likely either shock or indignation.

He was only on his second drink, yet the heat of the desert air that felt even more stifling within the small, near windowless bar must have accelerated the process of inebriation. A few strands of his ginger hair clung to his sweat-coated forehead and his belly bulged over the confines of his too tight uniform belt. Snoke, who hadn’t touched his own drink, was struggling to hide his disdain.

“I said”, Snoke began, impatience dripping from his words, “In exchange for my powers and the access to a hidden planet full of riches, I will rule the army you and the other remaining Imperials have secretly started mobilizing in the Unknown Regions.”

That rendered Brendol Hux speechless. His reaction surprised Snoke - after all, the man had agreed to this meeting after Snoke had hinted at knowing the coordinates of a planet full of valuable resources. Perhaps Brendol Hux hadn’t expected a price of that height.

After a minute of stunned silence, Hux gathered himself and tugged at his collar.

“Please excuse my impertinence, but - _Snoke,_ wasn’t it? You must understand that a decision like that is subject to certain parameters. While the coordinates you’re offering have a _great_ appeal, I doubt they’re enough to grant you a position of that like.”

Hux’s arrogant demeanor made Snoke itch to show him his place, yet he restrained himself. Making to leave the secluded booth they had chosen for their highly confidential talk, Hux started shifting in his battered leather seat.

“I believe you forgot I’m offering my powers as well.”

Hux stopped his movements and looked at Snoke with snideness in his tired eyes.

“Ah, yes. Your _powers.”_

Snoke saw that Hux was doing his best not to show how amused he was.

“You’ve told me a lot about you powers now, and if only one word of it is true, consider me genuinely impressed. But I’m afraid I can’t do much for you as long as you haven’t delivered solid _proof_ that --”

Watching Hux falling silent again, seeing his mildly terrified eyes following Snoke’s slowly lifting hand and feeling instinctive fear developing within him gave Snoke a sense of blissful gratification.

Hux, like every human being, felt that he was in danger before Snoke’s demonstration had even begun.

With a twist of his long fingers, Snoke set the room around them on fire.

When Hux felt the unnatural heat crawling up his neck and saw the reflection of the flames in Snoke’s eyes he turned around hastily, mouth opened in a silent cry and eyes so big they threatened to pop out of their sockets.

The wide flared skirt of the woman sitting at the counter had caught fire, just like her silver hair and her purse. The Gamorrean drunkard who had just been about to engage the lady in conversation so he could clandestinely cut a hole into said purse was coughing forcefully, rattling at the bar’s entrance in vain. The bartender was desperately trying to stifle the flames that were melting the skin off his face, splashing water on it while sinking to the ground. The two Rodian bounty hunters arguing over their loot were now throwing themselves to the floor, the fire lapping at their bodies making them scream in anguish.

Hux’s face had meanwhile turned an impossibly deeper shade of red. Thick plumes of lethally black smoke began shrouding him and he coughed into his fist when they crawled into his lungs. He ogled Snoke with the pleading eyes of a dying man, unable to form words in between his coughs.

“Is that _proof_ enough, Commandant Hux?”

Snoke didn’t get a reply, and he hadn’t expected one. Hux was too busy trying to cover mouth and nose to shield his lungs from the omnipresent smoke. The display was slowly growing tiring, and Snoke decided to get to the point.

“I take that as a _no.”_

Invisible hands gripped Hux’s wrists and ripped his hands away from his face so roughly it made his joints crack. Hux’s first, natural instinct was to yell, yet the sound was immediately silenced by a third hand that closed around his throat. A force people like Brendol Hux would never understand lifted him up until his body was helplessly floating mid-air. The strain of Snoke’s hold make Hux shiver all over.

“I have been roaming this galaxy for centuries now, and a simple minded human like yourself couldn’t even _begin_ to imagine the things I have done to stay alive. If you think that this army you’ve assembled has at any point belonged to anyone but me, you are sorely mistaken. The _First Order,_ as you like to call it, was _destined_ to obey to my command. Do you want to be one of the few men that stood in the way of _my destiny,_ Brendol Hux?”

 _Men like your useless son?_ Snoke almost added, but silenced himself in time.

The flames around them raged on - the screams had mostly fallen silent. A faint whimper could be heard, as well as the ominous explosions of various glass bottles. Their booth was now separated from the rest of the bar by a blazing wall of fire that promised to spread to their table any second now.

The sight of Hux’s swollen face gave Snoke secondhand embarrassment. Snoke jumped out of his seat, rose his voice, put centuries of frustration and anger into one question.

_“Do you?”_

Hux couldn’t reply verbally, but after a few moments of gathering the last bits of his remaining strength he managed to feebly shake his head.

And as though that movement was a secret code that Hux and Snoke had agreed on, Snoke sat down again and the flames all around them disappeared as quickly as they had come.

In a matter of seconds, the bar returned to its original, quiet yet unpleasantly muggy state, and Hux dropped back into his seat like a wet sack of cement.

For a moment Hux resembled a madman attempting to free himself of his straitjacket, waving his hands about and gasping for air like his life depended on it - which, in his mind, was most likely the case. Snoke watched him calmly, waited patiently for him to realize that the old lady at the bar was merrily chatting with the drunkard that was robbing her, that the bartender was whistling while he rinsed off the foam of a freshly cleaned glass, and that the fight between the two bounty hunters was about to be settled.

When Hux came back to reality he stared at Snoke for almost precisely half a minute, unblinking, paralyzed with fear and disbelief. Snoke could watch him trying to make sense of what he’d gotten himself into, fumbling for words but not finding any.

Snoke’s impatience made him show some mercy and accept Hux’s wordless surrender.

“Now why don’t you introduce me to your High Command so we can discuss the formalities.”

That order disguised as a proposal changed something in Hux’s expression. Next to silent terror there was now something else - the recognition of a superior. Awe. _Respect._

“Right away, Supreme Leader Snoke.”

 

***

 

If Snoke could have had it his way, the matter would have been settled eleven years ago.

He would have dragged the meager boy to the temple at the first opportunity and forced him to activate the Ubiquitum.

But that would have meant a disregard of his visions, which would have been ignorance towards the Force itself, and Snoke hadn’t been able to bring himself to violate his own rules like that.

His visions had insisted, almost begged him to wait. A few other pieces would need to fall into place first - like the rebirth of the Knights of Ren, the destruction of the New Republic, the annihilation of the Resistance and the demise of the last Ledi.  

And, naturally, finding a way to make the boy that was now a man obedient enough to do anything for Snoke - a much more effective tactic than brute force.

“Supreme Leader?”

Armitage Hux’s voice sounded mechanical and tense, which was in conformity with his impossibly straight back and his uptight facial expression. The blue, holographic image of him flickered before Snoke’s eyes, the brightness of it making him squint.

Snoke had almost forgotten about his presence.

“I summoned you to announce that preparations need to be made. For the arrival of my apprentice.”

Enjoying the sight of Hux trying to hide his bewilderment, Snoke allowed him to hesitate.

“... Your _apprentice,_ Supreme Leader?”

“He and six more passengers will arrive here later this evening. You will personally make sure his reception will be that of any high-ranking guest.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader”, Hux said, quicker this time.

Then, Snoke felt Hux being hit by an uncomfortable realization.

“May I ask for how long he’ll be staying?”

It took a lot of self-control for Snoke not to smile. _Yes,_ he thought, _you will get a competitor._

“In this organization, people stay until they fail to live up to my expectations, General Hux.”

That silenced the little hologram.

“Kylo Ren is a skilled Force-user like myself, and my training will turn him into a perfect First Order weapon. With my guidance, he will become the ruthless enforcer the First Order was in need of. A strong, Force-sensitive warrior, an indispensable force to contribute to our cause and reach our final goal.”

Hux kept a straight face, didn’t even blink.

“You will assure that he is introduced to the Order as the _Jedi Killer._ I hereby explicitly order you to exclude him from your _enemy research program._ Is that understood?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“That will be all.”

Snoke disconnected and the chamber around him disappeared in darkness.

He closed his eyes and did what he’d been aching to do all day - he reached out with the Force and linked his mind to that of his future apprentice.

The inferno he saw was beautiful, majestic, like it had been lit specifically in celebration of Kylo Ren’s birth.

 

***

 

“Kylo Ren has failed”, Snoke said with all the calm he could muster, “and so have you.”

Snoke was glad that General Hux could not see him in person, otherwise he would have noticed that the flicker in Snoke’s hologram wasn’t actually a regular signal interference, but Snoke’s body that was trembling with fury.

It was crucial now that Hux remained unsuspecting of the importance of this mission - or at least the importance of _his_ participation in it.

The only part of Snoke that was calm was his voice. Starkiller Base was supposed to deal a lot more damage, and now it was gone, only ashes and debris left. The Resistance was decimated, but its core lived on. And, worst of all - Luke Skywalker was alive, and the Resistance was on its way to recruit him.

Nothing had developed the way Snoke had planned.

His frustration with the situation, with the general incompetence of the First Order and with the absence of the Ubiquitum had grown immeasurably, and the unexpected turns the most recent events had taken had caused Snoke to make a decision that derogated from everything the visions had instructed him to do.

The Ubiquitum would be fetched _now,_ and its collection would simultaneously be the punishment General Hux and Kylo Ren deserved for disappointing Snoke so deeply, for interfering with his destiny so gravely.

He didn’t care about their fates in the least - he’d need them until the Ubiquitum was his again, and after that they wouldn’t be of significance to him any longer. Hux, of course, would have to be eliminated after he’d served his purpose, but what he’d do with Kylo Ren was still uncertain. Snoke would test him and see whether he’d have any use for him in the future.

All that mattered was the reunion Snoke had spent centuries anticipating.

There was one last voice at the back of Snoke’s mind that reprimanded him for ignoring the visions, asking him bothersome questions such as _What if something goes wrong? What if Hux strays from the path you set for him?_

That voice however was silenced as Snoke regarded the small hologram before him. It showed a man that was subconsciously trained to meet each of Snoke’s wishes, obey to his every command. A man that had always been eager to please, first his father, now Snoke.

Hux would walk the path Snoke had set for him, and he’d do so without even looking left or right. And at the end of it, Hux would activate the Ubiquitum and hand it to Snoke. Not because Snoke would force him to do it; Hux would do it of his own free will, because _serving_ was what he was born to do.

Snoke stifled a smile and proceeded to give Hux the instructions for his last mission.


	22. Chapter 22

When Hux’s eyelids spring open like shutters and the story that had been projected on their inner surface like a holodrama ends, the room around him takes shape again. 

His view of Snoke’s poignant glare is unexpectedly sharp and clear, the silence of the room as heavy and nervous as it had been the moment Hux had zoned out. 

Hux’s first, panicked assessment is the fact that despite his mental absence, he’s still Snoke’s center of attention just like he’s still alive and well. It must have been minutes, maybe hours ago that the Ubiquitum had blanked Hux’s mind and had sucked him into this very vivid daydream -- 

Except that Hux can’t have possibly spent more than a few  _ seconds _ caught up in a trance as deep as this one and remained completely unresponsive without Snoke noticing. Without Snoke trying everything to rip him out of it. 

“Trill”, Snoke suddenly says, tense impatience accompanying the word as though Snoke was forced to repeat himself - and then, Hux understands. 

The word is the final part of the mind trick Snoke used on Hux just a few moments ago. The mind trick that has ceased to work on Hux because the Ubiquitum made sure he was shown everything he needed to know. And since this story was relevant to Hux’s decision, it was told in the space of a few seconds. 

Snoke has no idea that the Ubiquitum just helped Hux see right through him. 

Hux briefly acknowledges his current lack of options, yet he doesn’t fret about it. His times of being someone’s tool are over, and there’s only one way to assure that everyone including himself finally understands it, once and for all.  

Acting on an impulse rather than on a plan he has no time concocting, Hux closes his eyes to mentally put together an image of Snoke’s atrocious face.

He misses the irritation crossing Snoke’s eyes at seeing his mind trick fail, as well as the naked, miserable dread that fills them at understanding that he’s powerless against what Hux is about to do. 

“Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill”, Hux calmly utters one last time, and he watches in anxious awe as Snoke’s already weak knees give in. 

Snoke’s lips part in a silent groan, but Hux knows the sound won’t leave him. 

Behind Hux, Ren is released from Snoke’s invisible restraints - Hux barely takes notice of it. He’s focused entirely on the choice he just made and the sudden insecurity about whether it was the right one. 

It very much feels like the right choice when Hux’s eyes follow Snoke’s old, depleted and corrupted body lifelessly sinking to the ground, the expensive robes enshrouding him seeming to swallow him like an abyssal pool of viscous, golden water. It feels right watching him dying, like it was supposed to have happened long ago. Like Hux is finally disposing of expired food that has been rotting in the conservator for too long.

Those feelings of rightness and necessity however fail to rid Hux of the subconscious suspicion that what he’s doing may be the best solution for the Ubiquitum, perhaps even for the galaxy - but not for himself.

Voices of doubt start yelling at Hux out of nowhere and can’t be silenced. They offer him several explanations for how deciding to use the Ubiquitum was a bad choice - that it would one day force Hux to make sacrifices against his will, that it would pollute his body with ill, warped and stolen powers, that it would further bind Hux to the artifact and make sure he falls prey to an addiction that would sooner or later take a fatal turn. 

Hux would become the next Skaaran Brooke. 

Hux’s conviction of having made the right choice dwindles abruptly. 

Not too long ago, Hux would have taken pride in being compared to Supreme Leader Snoke; he would have considered it one of the highest compliments. There was no one Hux admired more when it came to aspects like wisdom, power or the absolute immunity towards any sorts of obstructive emotions. Hux had sometimes envied him for feeling so little, for showing no mercy, for having no evident attachments to loved ones or his past. 

But now that Hux has seen what this emotional void has done to Snoke and what happens when a being’s only aspiration is power, he feels revulsion at the thought that he could become Snoke’s copy. 

_ “I’m not like this”,  _ Hux hisses through gritted teeth, not realizing he’s articulating the thought.  _ Not anymore. _

The thin thread of smoke snakes its way into the Ubiquitum and Hux’s mind is like an open battlefield. 

_ This can’t be weakness, not when it makes me feel like conquering the galaxy,  _ the memory of Ren breathes in his head, and Hux winces like he’s in pain. The image of his mother talking to the Balosar at the beach flashes up before his eyes, bright and clear, and his inexplicable grief about her death floods him.  _ You can’t talk your way out of this one, Hux. Stop running,  _ Scott Lown says. Hux remembers his snarky voice, his brown eyes, his freckles, his wild, blond hair, just like he remembers the remorse he felt for killing him. 

There’s strength in these sentiments. Snoke gave them up, threw them away,  _ forgot  _ about them, and while he thought his incomprehension towards them would strengthen him, his underestimation of their power would now contribute to his downfall. 

Hux rips open his eyes. 

The conference room around him looks different - less  _ surreal,  _ Hux thinks - and with unnatural velocity he sums up the situation. 

Snoke lies before his throne, reduced to a golden heap, unconscious but not yet dead. 

The four Praetorian guards still stand where Snoke placed them, their bodies thrashing around in a strange way. As Hux takes a closer look at them he finds that they’re attempting to approach and attack him, yet something seems to be holding them back - they throw themselves against what appears to be an invisible wall that keeps them from reaching Hux, one that even their weapons can’t penetrate. Hux can’t figure out who or what is producing what he assumes is a shield.

The extraction Hux has initiated is still in progress. 

Hux feels something entering him, a cold, slinking sensation creeping into every part of his body, and his breathing speeds up in blind panic while the vibrations of the Ubiquitum in his hand become more urgent. 

He hears Ren walking up to him, saying something into his right ear, yet the words sound too muffled to make sense. 

It’s time to stop - a feeling buried deep inside of Hux tells him that if he absorbs even one more part of Snoke, he’ll reach his very last point of no return. 

With furious dedication, Hux orders the muscles in his hand to relax so he can drop the Ubiquitum and interrupt the procedure. 

But Hux’s fingers remain tightly clenched around the artifact, rigid and unrelenting, and however hard Hux tries he cannot force them apart. 

An idea crosses his mind before proper dread can daze him. 

“Ren!”, Hux yells, the sound of his pulse thrumming in his ears nearly deafening, “Help me unclench my hand, I need to drop it!  _ Quickly!” _

Everything happening at once overwhelms Hux so much that it threatens to make him faint. He mentally instructs himself to stay awake. Ren is right in front of him now, stretching out his hand towards Hux’s cramping fist and letting it hover a short distance above it. 

Hux feels Ren’s Force-grip tugging at his hand from the outside, feels the Ubiquitum tugging at his hand from the inside, and the raw aggressiveness of this battle for dominance rips through Hux’s whole body. His fist is shaking violently, and just when Hux starts feeling the beginnings of pain exploding in the joints of his fingers, Ren wins.

The artifact clicks when it hits the ground. 

When Hux looks at it, the world seems to be spinning while the Ubiquitum stays fixed, making Hux believe the universe is orbiting around it. 

Contrary to Hux’s expectations, the severance of their direct connection doesn’t improve his condition in the least. 

Changes have been made, alterations on both Hux’s body and mind. 

He nearly gives in to the temptation of denial - he could simply pretend that the extraction didn’t affect him, that he’s still entirely himself, that the new, alien flow he feels within him is nothing more than the rush of blood and adrenaline. 

The impulse is only reinforced by the look he finds on Ren’s face as he searches it. 

Ren’s wide, nearly terrified eyes are fixed on Hux’s own, perceiving the very same, apparently unconcealable change Hux does. Something about Hux seems to irritate Ren and trigger a pang of shock in him that makes him take a small step backwards. 

_ Your eyes,  _ Ren says, bewilderment taking his breath away. But the words aren’t spoken aloud - they resound in Hux’s head while Ren’s lips remain sealed. 

Hux’s right eye twitches involuntarily. His jaw tenses up to the point of causing a dull ache in his temples. Heat flares up in his chest and crawls up his neck, a type of heat Hux has never allowed to spread like that before. This fury must have always simmered somewhere within him, Hux just never knew he could access it - and now the annoyance with his own stupidity set it free.  

Hux agreed to this, he invited the Force in without thinking about the consequences, and now he’s stuck with these repulsive new powers, with feelings he can’t control, with Ren looking at him in disgust, with four guards ready to jump at his throat. 

The blood pumping through Hux’s carotid makes it throb, the tension that is close to making his lungs burst provokes a furious outcry, and from one second to the next the invisible shield holding back the guards vanishes into thin air. 

Wordlessly and rapidly, the four figures immediately start rushing towards Hux and Ren, their shiny, crimson armor clicking with each movement. To Hux, their presence is no longer as one dimensional as it used to be  _ \-  _ Hux senses the humans beneath the near impenetrable shells, feels their muscles twitching and their breaths speeding up, hears scraps of their thoughts as they prepare themselves to strike down the men who dared attack their leader.  

Two of them close in on Ren while the other two take care of Hux. Ire forms a sneer on Hux’s face as he’s enraged further by their arrogant thoughts: They’re both convinced that this won’t take very long. 

Their underestimation is like an unintentional taunt that takes Hux’s fury to another level. The guard that reaches Hux first - a man about three years older than himself, Hux determines - has his electro-bisento raised defensively in front of his chest, the sharp blade of the weapon glistening threateningly in the sun that’s slowly but steadily heating up the conference chamber. Hux doesn’t need to concentrate to feel that the guard will be going for his throat. His new inner compass gives him the instructions he needs, raises his awareness for things that haven’t happened yet and shows him how to gain control over his still unfamiliar potential. 

Hux never thought that  _ this  _ was what the Force felt like - quite frankly he’d never fantasized much about the Force to begin with - but it’s as though the Force was a tide that washed over the universe at the dawn of time, flooding and coating every living being ever since. And if the Force was indeed a tide, Hux is now one of the few who can feel its ancient water all around them, within them. Within himself.

The guard extends his weapon, and Hux extends his hand. 

An unpleasantly vivacious energy flashes through Hux as he concentrates on the target, locates the energy resembling his own within the guard and sends a controlled yet forceful push in his direction.

The punishing movement hurls the guard up into the air until his flight is interrupted by the unrelenting stone wall of the chamber - his armor first cracks at the impact, then rattles as he slides down on the uneven surface, then cracks again dully as his limp body collides with the floor. 

Not showing any sign of astonishment or intimidation, the second guard leaps at Hux instantly. A woman approximately fifteen years older than Hux regards him from beneath her bright red plastoid helmet, her thoughts a colorful mixture of blind hatred and cool determination. Her high-tech vibro-voulge won’t save her - a truth she becomes aware of only when Hux effortlessly bends the Force to stop her in her tracks.

The heat of rage still controls each of Hux’s thoughts and each of his actions, awakens a new, enhanced sense of cruelty in him. The guard’s hands release the impressively large weapon at Hux’s silent command. 

Hux reaches out and summons the vibro-voulge. He feels the guard’s pulse speeding up explosively when the weapon darts towards him and he catches it with ease. It’s heavy in Hux’s sure grip, heavier than anticipated, but after Hux channels his concentration on it it starts feeling like an extension of his arms. 

Hux takes one, two, three steps towards the guard and spots the miniscule slit where her helmet meets the rest of her armor. The air resistance causes the blade to howl silently as Hux swings it and decapitates the guard without batting an eye, like he’s used to doing it daily. Her head gives a morbid thump when it tumbles to the floor, but Hux doesn’t hear it.

The rush in his ears cuts Hux off from the rest of the room - he knows the rational part of him is no longer in control and he’s instead moved around by a strange force he doesn’t understand. Hux feels like a playing piece, like one of the holographic creatures in a game of dejarik - weak-willed but aggressive, ready to maul and destroy for reasons he can’t quite see through. 

From across the room, Hux hears - no,  _ feels -  _ Ren’s heartbeat. It’s so agitated that it makes Hux want to turn around, but he doesn’t get around to do so before the first guard wakes up from his temporary unconsciousness and comes running towards Hux again. 

The raw fury from before wanes a bit and turns into vexation, then exhaustion. Hux wants to get this over with. 

The guard keeps running even after Hux’s unseen grasp closes around his neck and elevates him. Legs helplessly kicking the air and hands letting go of the electro-bisento to try and remove hands that aren’t there, the guard is far from giving in to his fate - he attempts to wrangle free, tries to find a way to relieve the pressure on his windpipes, but the effort he puts into escaping the inescapable situation wastes the last reserves of his energy and only accelerates the process of asphyxiation. 

Hux regards the struggling figure through dull eyes, the energy within him first tingling like carbonated water, then buzzing like a swarm of bees. 

Clatter fills Hux’s ears after he’s pulled the Force back. The guard whose heartbeat he can’t feel any longer must have hit the ground - Hux doesn’t turn around to check. He’s already facing Ren and the guard he’s duelling. 

The fourth guard, one of the two who had gone for Ren, has one hand still closed tightly around his electro-bisento and is lying flat on his back. A singed looking hole marks the middle of his armored chest. 

The third guard has not only managed to wound Ren’s right upper leg, he has also ensnared Ren’s wrist with his Bilari electro-chain whip, keeping the hand that’s holding the furiously spitting lightsaber firmly in place. 

As he approaches, Hux wonders how he could have failed to hear the deep hum of the saber, the rattling of the guard’s armor as it was penetrated, Ren’s enraged panting or his grunt of pain at receiving his injury. But he simply didn’t discern any of these sounds. 

Now, the duel is as loud and clear as it could get, and Hux zones in on the man clad in red plastoid.

Hux senses that Ren can finish the guard himself, but it’s not the time to risk further injuries. There’s a blade shining in the guard’s other hand, and it’s too close to Ren’s abdomen for Hux’s liking. 

With a languid, not strictly necessary but very demonstrative twist of his hand, Hux forces the guard’s head to swiftly snap to the left. A muffled, blood curdling crack signalizes that the unnatural movement successfully broke the guard’s neck.  

The red figure slumps down promptly and the chain whip deactivates, sliding down on Ren’s wrist like a dead, plasma filled worm. 

Silence spreads across the room after the blades of Ren’s lightsaber withdraw as well.

A rush of excitement sears through Hux when he takes in the way Ren looks at him - the plain shock makes his entire face slip. The incomprehension and attentive caution in his eyes lead Hux to believe that Ren is looking at something dangerous right behind Hux, not at Hux himself.

But the monster behind Hux is already taking its last breaths, not intimidating enough to be stared at like this. This look is meant for Hux exclusively. 

Ren’s mind resembles an anthill as he takes a few careful steps in Hux’s direction, like Hux was a rare, rogue beast. His thoughts are too bustling and incoherent for Hux to understand - all Hux knows is that Ren refuses to let everything that just happened frighten him. 

All of a sudden, the remnants of Hux’s anger dissolve, clear his head and allow him to realize that he feels completely, exceptionally lost. 

There must be a way to make this undone. There  _ must  _ be a way for Hux to get this poison out of his system. 

Ren’s strides have become more confident, but Hux meets him halfway anyway.

“I’m not myself”, Hux croaks as an intense wave of exhaustion takes him by surprise. 

It’s like he’s a boy again, aching for Ren’s hands to hold him in place and help him even out his pulse, help him set things right.

“Calm down”, Ren’s soothing voice sounds, barely reaching Hux, “It’s over. Calm down.”

But it’s not - the tingling in Hux’s fingertips gives it away. The air around them that’s not as pure as it should be gives it away, too. Perhaps it would be over if Hux only felt Ren’s and his own presence inhabiting the room; but the third presence, as faint and fatally injured as it may be, is still there, preventing things from being truly over. 

A cough behind Hux confirms his assumption. Ren keeps his hand firmly pressed to Hux’s neck when he lets his gaze flick over to the dying Snoke, giving Hux back a bit of the warmth that seems to be leaving his body for some reason. 

“My condition can wait.  _ He  _ can not”, Hux whispers, taken aback by how hard it is to form the words. 

Somewhat reluctantly, Ren nods and removes his hand, leaving Hux shivering against his will. It must be the exertion from using his new powers so thoroughly that’s causing him to feel feverish. 

“Well done, General Hux. Kylo Ren.”

Snoke’s age now finally shows in his voice - it’s throaty and dry, his vocal chords parched from centuries of use they were never made for.

Ren ignites his lightsaber again. His steps don’t falter at Snoke’s sudden utterance. 

“Never could I have foreseen this - the Ubiquitum outwitted me exquisitely. But even if I have to perish now, it’s --”

A coughing fit interrupts Snoke. Ren is looming right above him now.

“-- It’s a great delight to see I still end up being right. One of you will die today, and I hope I’ll last long enough to watch.”

Hux feels Ren’s desire to cut Snoke’s throat even before the lightsaber prepares to strike. 

“Ren, wait”, Hux orders, even though the words lack the emphasis and fervor of an order.

Searching Snoke’s tired looking eyes, Hux tries to take a step forward but stops himself when he feels the muscles in his feet first heating up rapidly, then going strangely numb.

“Explain”, Hux demands, and the word hurts his throat. 

“I wasn’t the only one the Ubiquitum managed to fool. It told you my story, did it not? A clever, no, a  _ genius  _ move.”

Thinking is a difficult task, suddenly - Hux’s thoughts are tough like molten rubber, sticky, impossible to put together without blending them irreversibly.

“As the storyteller, it had of course the liberty of leaving certain parts out.”

Snoke takes a deep, rattling breath, coughs again. 

“It must have told you about my hearing. About the day my knights first rose. I was accused of murdering not only one, but  _ two  _ council members. Do you remember that, General?”

The scene springs to the forefront of Hux’s mind. Yes, two. Two council members.

Hux gasps as his legs follow his feet’s example. His muscles warm up like he’s running, resulting in an intense tremor that makes Hux nauseous. Cold sweat breaks out on every inch of his skin before the heat turns into numbness a second time.

“The first one was my good  _ friend  _ Jakar Landala. I won’t bore you with details about his extraction - what matters is the part that came after. The part the Ubiquitum must have kept from you. I… I doubt you would have decided the way you did, had you known.”

“Hux - what is he talking about?”, Hux hears Ren saying as though through a wall.

Then all feeling leaves Hux’s lower body and he feels himself dropping to his knees. 

Ren swears. Hux blinks - Ren is crouching in front of him. Hux blinks again - Ren’s hands are on his shoulders, but their warm pressure feels no more intense than a brush of fabric. 

“What’s wrong?”, Ren inquires gently, searching Hux’s eyes, then turns back to Snoke in panic, “What’s  _ happening  _ to him?”

It’s so loud that it rings in Hux’s ears. He forces himself to concentrate, to listen, to  _ understand  _ what Snoke is saying, but the numbness spreading like a narcotic makes it hard for Hux’s mind to resist drowning in a cold ocean of fear. 

“The life is leaving him, boy. Just like the life would have left  _ me  _ after my first extraction, had it not been for Jakar’s dear friend, who came looking for him after I took his life. At first, everything - everything had worked splendidly. But after a while, my cells began reacting to the power I forced on them. The fusion requires more energy than a mortal body has to give - I had to learn that the hard way. My life was hanging by a thread when Shivas Bastra arrived… Without the immediate extraction I performed on her, I would have died a wretched death then and there. My recovery took  _ days.” _

Snoke’s laughter is creaky and stertorous; he looks and sounds more dead than alive. 

“A little justice, at least, to watch someone else experiencing it before I go.”

_ Ren has no idea,  _ Hux thinks incoherently and with resigned amusement,  _ he doesn’t get it. _

His vision blurs as Ren shakes him. A bead of sweat drips into Hux’s eye, blinding him for a few seconds. Ren’s head flicks from Hux to Snoke, back and forth until Hux is dizzy.

“Do you know how to stop it?” Ren barks at Snoke, and Hux is too far gone to hear the despair in his voice, “ _ Do you?” _

The images in front of Hux’s inner eye keep switching - Snoke, who yells  _ Do you?  _ at Hux’s father while choking him inside of a bar on fire, Snoke’s last, triumphant grin even though he lost, Ren’s horrified, helpless face.

“Oh, I do. And he knows how to stop it, too. But he won’t even consider it - not when  _ you  _ are the last one left to give him life. He’s too --”

A few more violent coughs, a silent wail.

“-- too weak, too soft heartedly naive.”

Snoke is right - if not even  _ thinking _ of sacrificing Ren’s life to stay alive makes him weak, then Hux is indeed the weakest person in this galaxy. 

However, Snoke is also wrong - even if Hux had thought of this option, of absorbing Ren’s soul in his mortal agony, if he wanted to do it  _ right now,  _ he couldn’t even muster enough strength to close his fingers around the artifact. 

This numbness, Hux knows, is not temporary. It’s everlasting. 

“The Ubiquitum doesn’t want an owner any longer. It doesn’t _need_ one. It’s cutting its ties, the way _you two_ have just attempted to cut yours by killing me.”

Heat encloses Hux’s stomach, his ribcage, his - 

Hux’s laborious panting morphs into a weak cough, then a few, quick, consecutive coughs, then an outright fit. He knows the contraction of his lungs is taking away even more of his energy, but he guesses that at this point, delaying the inevitable by a few seconds is futile. The only reason Hux is still on his knees must be Ren’s hands steadying him and keeping him upright, though it’s not like he can tell for sure - his surroundings have become a swirling, hazy mess. 

Hux itches to tell Ren that yelling at Snoke is no use - but is Ren’s fury really directed at Snoke? Or is it directed at Hux? His attempt to speak is immediately thwarted by a cramp somewhere in his chest. He inhales as deeply as he can and feels his windpipes scratching and burning, yet it doesn’t stop him from trying again, and a second time, and a third time, until his lungs fail to keep up and his breathing becomes shallow. 

The shadow in front of Hux - Ren - is addressing him, and Hux wants nothing more than to answer, but he can’t. Not aloud. 

_ This is not how it was supposed to end,  _ Hux thinks, hoping the vague shadow hears it. The torrid claws of his feverish delirium tighten their grip around his neck, caress his arteries.

When Hux’s gaze sharpens for a second, Ren’s face is a mask of incomprehension and blank despair. It feels like the hardest task he’s ever faced to bring it into focus and lock his clouded eyes with Ren’s, but Hux is adamant that it needs to be done before he can will his brain to form one last, reasonably clear thought. 

_ But at least I had you. _

Hux’s heart rate that would have peaked at an admission like that under different circumstances slows until it’s barely more than a slight, occasional twitch.

Someone seems to be dimming the lights of the room; the edges of Hux’s vision grow blurry. 

Against all of Hux’s expectations, the ensuing darkness is not nearly as frightening as he thought it would be - it promises nothing and holds everything, which is decidedly better than pain. 

Dust dances quietly in the in the warm sunlight, and Hux takes his last breath.


	23. Chapter 23

The sun burns in Kylo’s eyes when he steps outside and for a moment, the world around him is nothing but blindingly hot, white nothingness.

Even if he can’t see anything, he’s glad to have left the temple. The darkness in there was charged with a sinister energy that Kylo isn’t eager to feel again any time soon. 

Now that he thinks about it he can’t actually remember his way out, even though the memory of it should be fresh. He guesses he should have had trouble with the stairs since his leg felt like it was exposed to a flamethrower when he received his injury, and the complete darkness should have caused him to miss a step or run into a wall. Perhaps the Force had guided him. 

_ Nevermind,  _ he thinks as his uncomfortably stinging eyes are slowly adjusting to the brightness. He made it out somehow, and he managed to get Hux outside as well. That’s what matters.

Kylo faintly remembers fearing that Snoke might have set up additional traps, something extravagant like a bomb that’s activated by a last, silent command to then detonate and take Hux and Kylo with it, so he’d decided it would be best to leave the temple as quickly as he could. 

Taking a look around, Kylo now believes it would be best to go over to the river and settle down there for a short while, recover from the most recent events. Maybe a load of fresh water in his face will get Hux to wake up and explain himself. 

Hux’s body in Kylo’s arms is virtually weightless; the sight of him makes Kylo hear his haughty voice in his head, going on about not wanting to be  _ carried across the finish line.  _ In Kylo’s opinion it serves Hux right - now he’s unconscious and can’t do anything about Kylo carrying him anywhere he sees fit. A strange sense of triumph washes over Kylo. Now he can plan a few things to say as soon as Hux wakes up, while Hux will be entirely unprepared for their inevitable argument. 

_ No pulse,  _ a voice at the back of Kylo’s head says, the exact same one that tried to get his attention up in the throne room an unspecified amount of minutes ago, when he’d picked Hux up. Kylo pointedly ignores it just like the first time he’d heard it. 

The sand at the riverbank is so powdery that Kylo nearly slips as he approaches the rushing water. He feels sweat running down his neck in slow droplets as he carefully lowers Hux and puts him down on the soft ground - the sand is heated when Kylo’s hand brushes it. Sitting down reveals that Kylo’s clothes are entirely unfit for heat, that his knees and his back ache and that rapid movement makes him dizzy.

He starts shivering for no apparent reason and spends a few moments watching the masses of crystal blue water rushing past. 

Usually, vast amounts of thoughts and emotions keep rushing through Kylo’s brain everyday like the river before him, an unstoppable, natural flow he’s gotten used to over the years. Every now and then it would feel like someone was building a dam right in the middle of it, causing the flow to halt and the emotions to impound. The dams could be useful in certain situations - they had prevented Kylo more than once from making rushed decisions, and sometimes they had even stopped him from killing the wrong people. 

But eventually, each and every one of the dams would break at some point. Snoke had taught Kylo how to break a dam in precisely the right moment - and after these usually violent and sometimes painful outbreaks followed the feeling of complete, paralyzing emptiness. 

This pattern - flow, dam, overload, outbreak, emptiness - has always determined most of Kylo’s actions, and even if not every step always plays out in the exact same way the pattern usually gives Kylo a distinct sense of self-awareness and his very own idea of control.

And now, this pattern lies in shatters before him, none of the steps at its correct place in the sequence. Kylo can’t feel the familiar rush of emotion, can’t feel his emotions impounding, can’t feel his body tensing up with the dawning promise of a devastating outburst of rage. The only part of the pattern that remains is the emptiness, and it’s more solid, more numbing and more all-consuming than it’s ever been before. 

Waiting for the paralysis to let go of him again, Kylo half-heartedly searches for even a spark of feeling within him. 

He’s relieved to find something a few moments later, even if it’s just his oddly intense irritation with Hux.

It’s unfair of Hux to leave Kylo to deal with the aftermath of all this alone. Kylo has no idea where to start, which aspect to reflect on first. The most prominent change would probably be Snoke’s death, yet the positive impact of it has yet to reveal itself to Kylo. 

Out of the various lies Hux had told him, this particular one angers Kylo the most - Snoke is dead, and all Kylo feels about it is indifference. All this clever talk about having killed the  _ wrong mentor,  _ and that getting rid of Snoke would feel liberating - maybe Hux had really believed in that when he’d said it, yet that doesn’t change that he had been wrong. Snoke is gone, and Kylo feels nothing. 

It’s just a big, endless, cruel circle: Kylo putting trust in people just to be wronged, learning nothing from it and putting trust in the wrong people again. He was so naive to have thought that it would be any different with Hux. Now Kylo is left with nothing but disappointment in himself and, of course, a crippling absence of emotion.

Hux is the reason Kylo even made it this far, without Hux, Kylo wouldn’t be sitting here falling prey to the emptiness at all, and now the selfish idiot has left him to deal with it all on his own.

Thinking back to the night Hux came after Kylo to find him pressing his lightsaber to his stomach fails to give Kylo as much strength as it used to over the past days - instead, it feels like a sick joke at Kylo’s expense. Hux can never know how acutely Snoke had actually meddled with Kylo’s mind through Ahni Khaleesa’s hands. He can’t know that Snoke had broken Kylo without putting him back together again, can’t know that Kylo had been robbed of every last bit of willpower and hadn’t been able to justify his own existence to himself. Hux’s ability to continuously show up at precisely the wrong moment had, as sappy and overly dramatic as it may sound, saved Kylo’s life, and Hux can never know. Just when the fatal thought had crossed Kylo’s mind that his demise wouldn’t make a difference to anyone, Hux had come on the scene like the protagonist from one of his mother’s absurd holodramas, losing his mind over what he was seeing, proving Kylo wrong. 

Kylo laughs - the laughter just bubbles out of him without asking for permission, clipped and dry, and the sound is so unfamiliar and strange that Kylo is startled by it. The voice he’s hearing sounds so unlike his own that Kylo’s eyes quickly dart over to Hux to check whether he came back to his senses early to ridicule the man who just mentally compared him to a holostar. But Hux still lies motionlessly where Kylo put him, head fallen to the side, the gentle wind blowing a few strands of matted ginger hair into his gaunt face. 

The mission has left its marks on Hux - Kylo believes more than it’s left its marks on himself - and he’s gotten even skinnier than he already was. The sage green uniform top he’s wearing somehow makes his hair seem vibrant, even though the mission has dulled it considerably. It’s grown quickly, Kylo notices just now, it’s gotten a lot longer. He should keep it like that, long and hanging loosely into his face, and maybe Kylo can convince him to do just that after they’ve returned to the fleet. Kylo hates that he can picture exactly what Hux will have to say to that.  _ Violate regulation to look like some sort of savage Resistance member? I believe that’s your division. _

It feels pointless to think about these things, Hux’s hair or his skin that’s turned white as a sheet, but Kylo can’t stop. He zones in on Hux entirely, looks at the dark circles under his eyes for what feels like hours and has an underlying urge to wrangle Hux’s eyelids open. Kylo itches to check whether the irises underneath are still the reptilian yellow they had turned shortly after Hux had absorbed Snoke’s powers.  

He leaves Hux’s eyelids as they are, realizing the irrelevance of the current color behind them. It’s much more important to stay angry with Hux, to hold onto that last shred of emotion. Or better yet, develop an even more intense anger towards Snoke.

Snoke had been the one pulling the strings after all, had been fooling them until the very end, even after they had become aware of it. Some scraps of what Snoke had said while Kylo had been incapable of protesting still tumble around in Kylo’s head. By far more than half of the things he’d told Hux had been entirely made up. Perhaps, if Kylo tries hard enough and memorizes every lie Snoke told, his rage will come back to him. 

The first lie that comes to his mind is Snoke claiming to know Kylo had understood that  _ some things were just not meant to be.  _ A phrase taken straight from Snoke’s own vocabulary, but not from Kylo’s. Having Hux by his side  _ was  _ meant to be, and Kylo will prove it as soon as they’ve gotten their old lives back. The second lie - the most infuriating one, if Kylo had to choose - was Snoke telling Hux about Kylo’s intention to kill him, like a betrayal of that kind could have made Kylo feel that way. Like anything ever could after everything that had happened. It had been so obviously absurd that Kylo had been shocked at seeing Hux’s hesitation, the pain the words caused him as he believed them for a few moments. The third -

Kylo concentrates.

It was something about Kylo being glad Hux made it so easy to let go - then, of course, everything concerning Snoke’s readiness to share his power - 

The precision of Kylo’s memory wanes there, but the point is: While Hux may have lied about the Ubiquitum, Kylo is sure that Snoke must have somehow manipulated him into keeping it a secret. Kylo will ask Hux about it when the time is right, probably as soon as Kylo can muster enough mental strength to figure out the details of how exactly the artifact works. 

Instinctively, Kylo reaches into his right trouser pocket and pulls out the abnormally cold stone. He recalls the urge to take it with him, but not his reasoning behind it. It had simply felt wrong to leave it with Snoke. 

The sight of the artifact should make him furious, Kylo realizes distantly, just like the sight of Hux’s lifeless body or thoughts about Snoke. He should be burning with rage by now. 

Kylo’s never had any trouble recognizing a fit of temper - it usually started with a spark of heat low in his belly, then it would eat its way up to his chest like a lit fuse before it would reach his head and stain his vision red. Everything happening after that would be beyond Kylo’s control.

Yet the imaginary fuse inside of Kylo just dangles about, waiting to be set alight in vain. 

_ It can’t be much longer now,  _ Kylo reassures himself as he gets to his aching knees to crawl over to Hux. Kylo has decided that it’s time for him to wake up.

A shadow casts over Hux’s entire upper body when Kylo bends forward to lean over him.

The first time Kylo’s hand connects with Hux’s face, the touch is barely more than a hesitant pat, followed by a few more of its sort. Hux’s lack of response then drives Kylo’s hand to rush down quicker and firmer - after that doesn’t work, Kylo stops holding back and lets a sharp slap cross Hux’s pale cheek, all the while ignorant of the fact that his onslaught doesn’t make it redden. 

No need to grow impatient. Not even if that means that Kylo’s earlier idea of acquainting Hux’s face with a load of cold water can be safely cast aside.  

This is the first time Kylo is attempting to wake someone from a deep state of unconsciousness that he didn’t induce himself - it’s obvious that the solution to this problem must be more complex than a wave of his hand, a minor manipulation of the Force. 

That gives Kylo another idea. The cause of the unconsciousness could very well be the key to ending it. 

He unfurls the hand that isn’t hurting from the repeated collisions with Hux’s cheek and regards the Ubiquitum suspiciously. When his eyes properly focus on it he almost drops it. 

The artifact is moving - it’s vibrating at a frequency that makes its movement nearly imperceptible. Kylo feels rage emanating from it - he stops to question his sanity when he realizes that  _ yes,  _ this thing is practically  _ screaming  _ at him - and its ravage is more intense than that of any living being. Lifting his hand to bring the Ubiquitum closer to his sun-blinded eyes, Kylo finds tiny fissures drawing through it like the roots of an old tree, like lightning struck the artifact and left an imprint that definitely wasn’t there before. It looks like it could burst at any second.

“Mern, Isk, Grek, Herf, Trill”, Kylo says, not at all surprised when nothing happens. 

The Ubiquitum soundlessly hits the sand when Kylo casts it aside.

“Okay”, Kylo breathes out, and no one but himself hears it.

This calls for drastic measures. Kylo’s temples throb with the effort of keeping his frustration at bay and his thoughts collected. He aches to leave this vile planet that pretends to be something it’s decidedly not - a beautiful, peaceful place. He’s entirely fed up with everything it’s offering him now, each of its wonderful  _ gifts _ is attacking his senses; The heat slows down his movements and makes him numb, the light blinds him, the near aggressive rumbling and spitting of the river deafens him. Focusing has rarely ever been more difficult.  

Yet if Kylo intends to wake Hux by using the Force, focus is nothing less than vital. 

Presumably, the Ubiquitum manipulated Hux’s cells and the midi-chlorians within them, which means that Kylo should be able to manipulate them equally to undo whatever has been done to them. He’ll mobilize them, make them resume their work, watch Hux come to his senses with all sorts of paranoid questions on his lips. Kylo has never attempted anything similar in practice, but how hard can it be? It can’t possibly be that hard.

Now that Snoke is dead, any obstacles preventing Kylo from properly accessing his powers are gone. Of course they are. Just like Snoke turning his back on Kylo and denying him guidance at the start of this mission, the faults in his Force-abilities were Snoke’s way of pushing Kylo further into the depths of insecurity and self-doubt, of solidifying Kylo’s dependance on him.

Kylo is certain that even the panthac attack was orchestrated by Snoke, in hopes it would make Kylo crave his support more than ever while simultaneously reinforcing Hux’s scorn towards Kylo. 

Snoke hadn’t anticipated that Hux’s irritation with Kylo would turn into sympathy, he hadn’t foreseen that watching Hux defeating the panthac would cause Kylo to feel a pang of pure, unadulterated admiration for him. To be fair, no one could have possibly foreseen that. 

A smile tentatively and involuntarily spreads on Kylo’s face as he recaptures the train of thought he originally wanted to follow. He’d intended to think back to the healing the Mirialan -  _ Snoke  _ \- had performed on Hux. Kylo hadn’t known that Snoke was capable of healing, only ever hearing him describing it as a waste of energy. Accordingly, Snoke had never passed that knowledge on to Kylo, which is why he’s forced to improvise now.

Instinctively, Kylo presses his hands flatly to Hux’s chest, noting but not truly processing that it neither rises nor falls.

He starts reaching out - a familiar energy awakes within him, flows into his hands, pools there for a short while and continues to seep down and into Hux.

Kylo steers the Force and guides it to all of Hux’s vital organs, using it like a probe droid to feel the damage that has been done. Like a light-emitting diode thrown into a cavernous crater to estimate its depth, the Force allows Kylo to see where his eyes can’t reach, shows him every kind of activity even within the smallest compartments of Hux’s cells, ready to latch onto any living midi-chlorian to free it from its stupor. 

And living midi-chlorians are, to Kylo’s dismay, a rarity in Hux’s body. 

_ Not indicative of mortal danger,  _ Kylo thinks insistently,  _ not indicative of anything. Anything but low Force-sensitivity. _

The Force then sheds its figurative light on Hux’s insides, and the sight startles Kylo into nearly gasping out loud. 

It’s as though a finely woven net was cast over Hux’s heart, his brain, his lungs, his stomach, his - wherever Kylo reaches, there are filamentous green lines making the organs they’re covering look like they’re superficially splintered. The image it creates is absolutely disturbing, unlike any internal injury Kylo has ever witnessed before. It looks like the most sinister kind of disease. 

Kylo thinks, quickly, laboriously. If each of these lines marks a wound, perhaps Kylo can try tending to them one by one, maybe Kylo can cover and fill them with the Force the way he’d put bacta on the claw marks the panthac had left on Hux’s chest. 

It will take long, but if Kylo stops wasting time and tends to the most important organs first there’s a chance that the rest can be done with Hux awake. 

The idea is promising at first, Kylo’s confidence unswerving. His excitement grows when he feels it working - his influence takes effect, and just as he predicted, the tiny green notches can be sealed with the Force. Convinced that Hux’s cells will function again as soon as the vital parts of the net are aided, Kylo zealously continues his work even as he feels his own body growing weaker. 

His optimism lasts a while longer, right up until the point where a voice in his head informs him that  _ the wounds are sealed, but nothing happens.  _

Hesitating for a moment, Kylo decides against brushing that thought off. 

If his theory were anywhere near true, life and movement would have returned to the areas Kylo has already seen to, yet all he feels is dead silence, stagnation. 

He continues either way, but his efforts are of a different nature now. The optimism is gone, and in its place is morosity. He pours more of himself into Hux than he should and he knows it, like a desperate runner doing his final sprint knowing his chances to win are approaching zero. 

Half an hour later, Kylo removes his hands from Hux’s chest. 

Breath hitching from inhaling too quickly and shoulders trembling, Kylo slumps down to sit on his heels. 

From this perspective, it looks like absolutely nothing about Hux has changed. If anyone looked at Hux now, they wouldn’t be able to even  _ guess  _ that Kylo has just given everything to wake him up.

However, there’s no way Kylo will consider this fight lost. He can still go and search for Snoke’s ship, see if he can scavenge it for meds, or a secret antidote of some sort. There’s no way Kylo will give up that easily, no way, and if he has to run all the way back to the village to see - to look for -

It’s the moment Kylo’s eyes drop to Hux’s ashen face that a wave of brutally cold clarity starts building up in front of Kylo without him noticing. 

As though Kylo only just discovered Hux lying here, he begins to truly  _ see  _ him for the first time since they left the temple. 

The stillness that has taken hold of Hux is not peaceful like the stillness of sleep or unconsciousness. The small blue veins all around his white neck are the only indication that there’s any blood left within him at all. Nothing moves, not his chest, not the irises beneath his eyelids. 

With trance-like languidness, Kylo takes one of Hux’s frail wrists into his hands. Like a distant memory, the words from before fill his head, boastfully mocking him for ignoring them the first two times he heard them.  _ No pulse,  _ they chant, and this time Kylo listens. He reaches out with the Force one last time to find that the only presence he can feel on this beach is his own.

Something clicks. The wave of clarity breaks and crashes down on Kylo, the weight of it pushing the air out of his already exhausted lungs. 

Hux is gone. He’s gone, and there’s nothing Kylo can do about it. 

Kylo gets to his feet. 

He doesn’t feel his rage approaching, not this time - this time, it consumes him so rapidly and with such force that he doesn’t even have time to be relieved about having it back. 

This anger is blind and so hot that it will burn a white hole into Kylo’s mind, leaving a blank space where there should be a memory of one of the worst fits of rage Kylo’s ever had. 

Hux, the beach, the stony cliff behind Kylo grow fuzzy while Kylo’s brain surrenders entirely to anger, giving him the carelessness he needs to release every bit of it.

His hand rips the lightsaber from his belt on its own accord and activates it. His feet set him in motion, carry him over to the wall of stone; His lungs push air past his throat and his lips as he screams. He doesn’t stop, not even after his voice starts wheezing and breaking, not even when his windpipes feel like they’re being torn apart. 

The lightsaber colliding with the wall in front of Kylo is barely more than a dizzying, crimson blur, the humming and the cracking his mindless attack causes doesn’t get through to him. The only thing he feels are the vibrations of his own anguished cries at the back of his throat. Suddenly, he can’t take the numbness anymore, suddenly the urge to rid himself of it is overwhelming. 

He deactivates the lightsaber, hurls it against the relentless wall, hears it cracking, doesn’t particularly care if it burst or not. 

There’s another, far more nauseating crack when Kylo proceeds to drive his fist into the spot where the lightsaber had hit - the collision of knuckles and stone evokes a satisfying rush of pain that disappears as quickly as it had come. 

Kylo starts swaying where he stands and for a moment he thinks he might pass out. He would have welcomed it, yet of course he isn’t granted any favors today. 

The crimson fog starts lifting from his brain very slowly, and Kylo starts panicking. He’s not ready to let go of his fury yet, he isn’t prepared to return from the blissful craze he’s in and face the reality around him, but he can’t will his anger to stay a while longer - his anger has its own ideas, appearing and leaving as it pleases. 

The fog is already beginning to turn a deep shade of blue, and there’s nothing Kylo can do about it. 

The way Kylo turns around is almost comically sluggish and arduous. 

He peers at Hux as though through steamy glass. Beneath his feet, the sand puts Kylo’s balance to the test as he walks, makes him stagger like he’s inebriated while he returns to his spot at Hux’s side. His hand is now throbbing violently, but even if he could bring himself to care he wouldn’t dare take a look at it. 

Gravity and a sudden touch of fatigue pull Kylo down. Dull pain sears through his leg - the wound reopened, but Kylo’s previously astray thoughts are now centering on the fact that Hux won’t wake up again, not ever, and the tormenting awareness that there’s  _ nothing  _ he or anybody else can do about it. 

The realization that he isn’t crying makes Kylo tense up. His poor vision must stem from circulatory problems - his eyes are hazy but dry. He’s cried about a lot more inconsequential things. He even cried when he killed his father.  _ This is insanity,  _ Kylo thinks,  _ I’m going insane.  _ He has no one to go back to, he’s sitting right next to Hux’s corpse -  _ Hux,  _ the man he’d grown to care about most - he’s severed from each and every anchor he’s had in the past, now mindlessly floating in an ocean of insecurity and loss. 

And he can’t even bring himself to shed a tear about it. 

But the grief is there. Kylo feels it simmering right beneath his skin, like a toxin that’s just waiting for the right thought to cause a chemical reaction and release it to attack his nerves. 

Examining Hux with unseeing eyes, Kylo takes hold of his limp wrist again. The light blue of the veins drawing through it contrasts the white skin that encloses them. The flesh is very cold, so Kylo tightens his grip around it. 

_ This is not how it was supposed to end,  _ Kylo thinks bitterly, and his chest clenches explosively even before his brain completes the unintentional memory.

_ But at least I had you. _

A tiny whimper escapes Kylo’s throat, insignificant compared to the ear-shattering river, and his upper body slumps slowly. Hux’s wrist starts swimming, as well as the rest of the world around Kylo it drowns behind a veil of despair that is only lifted occasionally whenever Kylo manages to blink it away.

Hux wasn’t one of many wrong people to put his trust in. It would have worked, it would have  _ worked,  _ but Snoke ruined it, which means that Kylo ruined it too by pledging his allegiance to him in the first place. Destiny ruined it - Kylo believes he was never destined to have what could have been with Hux, was never destined to belong.

Kylo has no one to go back to, and he had it coming. He always thought he knew how to manage on his own, thought he knew  _ true  _ loneliness, but now he’s finally forced to realize that he’s never truly been alone before; He had parents that loved him, even if he’s always vehemently denied that to himself because self-pity felt better than forgiveness. They’d been horrible parents, but at the bottom of their hearts they’d cared for him. He cast that away. Then Kylo had Snoke, that’s where he always thought was his true place, but Snoke used him, needed him for different reasons than Kylo needed him. So he cast that away, too. 

And then, of course, he had Hux, yet it would be inaccurate to claim he had him the way he had parents or the way he had Snoke - Kylo and Hux had had each other.

They had picked each other over everything else they valued or feared, and apparently this is the price Kylo has to pay for having gotten the chance to feel wanted.

Hux had given him something beyond physical strength, a better understanding of the Force or an intimidating new name that people would utter in fear. Hux had made Kylo feel like a person that he could come to be at peace with, one that Kylo could one day learn to  _ like. _ Kylo had been so sure that Hux was his future.     

But Kylo had been wrong once again. What he thought was meant to last is already over.

A dark, wet spot has formed on Hux’s chest where Kylo is now resting his cheek, but the soaked fabric goes unnoticed by both Kylo and Hux. Kylo’s body feels surreally light and his face hurts from pinching up. His temples throb in synch with the beat of his heart.

The Force within and around Kylo trembles and flows, and Kylo subconsciously pours some more of it into Hux despite knowing it’s wasted on him and won’t do anything but drain his own body further. Perhaps that’s what he wants, being drained until oblivion takes this unbearable pain away.   

Kylo’s whole upper body trembles with his sobs now as he finds himself trapped in a spiral of self-pity, random memories of Hux and his own future that’s now the darkest it’s ever been, though the fact that Hux doesn’t have a place in his future plans any longer makes it near impossible for Kylo to think about where he’s going to go from here just yet.

For now, Kylo will have to stay exactly the way he is, head too heavy to lift it and on the verge of losing his mind, until he finds it in him to take action.

It would have all been too easy, Kylo reckons, it would have all been too good to be real. This is what Kylo deserves for being naive enough to believe that  _ he  _ had any say in shaping his own fate.   

Losing all sense of time and space, Kylo continues to curl up against Hux, his usually tall and imposing body reduced to a heaving pile of dark clothes. He does so until his wildly buzzing and swirling thoughts first quieten down to a low, monotone hum, then shut down altogether like an overheated engine. 

It’s not the first time Kylo’s will is stripped away entirely, and certainly not the first time he finds himself physically incapable of doing more than the barest minimum. He’s merely existing now, and he’s familiar with that feeling - but never before has even  _ that  _ felt like a challenge. 

The void that’s expanding in Kylo’s head is protective - it’s a natural defence against the agonies of reality, and it’ll stay with Kylo until he’s calmed down. 

It lulls him into a false sense of security, and it works even though its effect is eventually comparable to a child covering their eyes or ears to escape an unpleasant situation. It’s like cloaking a sharp proton bomb with a piece of cloth. 

What matters however is that it effectively detaches Kylo from everything that’s happening around and within him for a few hours. Even though the setting sun is proof for the duration of Kylo’s mental absence, he will later insist he hasn’t spent more than a few minutes waiting for it all to turn out to be a bad dream. 

Had it not been for the void, Kylo would have felt the energy around Hux shifting the second it happened, but as it is he misses it - the slight tremor right behind Hux’s ribcage as the sun vanishes behind the mountains, the first twitch beneath his eyelids, the first attempt of his reawakened heart to get the blood pumping through his veins again. 

In the midst of the debris of Kylo’s breakdown, Hux opens his eyes, and Kylo is wholly oblivious to it.


End file.
